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Copyright, 1885, 
by Harper & Brothers 


October 9 , 1885 


Subscription Price 
per Year, 62 Numbers, $16 


Entered at the Post-Ofl5ce at New York, as Second-class Mail Matter 


SELF-DOOMED 




By B. L. FARJEON 

AUTHOR OP “ BLADE-O’-GRASS ” “ LONDON’S HEART” “ LOVE’s HARVEST” 
“ GREAT PORTER SQUARE ” ETC., ETC. 


^ Books you may hold readily in your hand are the most useful^ aftet' all 

Dr. Johnson 







NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 

1885 


HARPER’S HANDY SERIES. 


Some of the most attractive of current literature is finding its way into these 
volumes, which you may buy for a quarter, hold easily in one hand, and slip into 
your pocket between the readings. — N. Y, Sun. 

This new serial is rapidly winning its way to popularity. Its size and shape 
are exactly suited to the pocket and the hand, and its price to the most modest 
purse. Its type is large enough to be perfectly legible. Most important of all, 
the selections made for the honor of appearing in this fastidious form are excel- 
lent. — N. Y. Journal of Commerce. 

This new series, besides its high literary character, is presented in a particu- 
larly handsome and convenient form. The type is so large as not to tire the eye 
of the railroad traveller and the size is convenient to hold and for the pocket. — 
Boston Transcript. 


Volumes of HARPER’S HANDY SERIES already issued. 

NO. CENTS. 

1. That Terrible Man. A Novel. By W. E. Norris 26 

2. Society in London. By A Foreign Resident 25 ' 

3. Mignon; or, Bootles’s Baby. A Novel. By J. S. Winter. Ill’d. 25 

4. Louisa. A Novel. By K. S. Macquoid. Vol. 1 25 

6. Louisa. A Novel. By K. S. Macquoid. Yol. II 26 

6. Home Letters. By the Late Earl of Beaconsfield. Illustrated. . 25 

Y. How TO Play Whist. By “ Five of Clubs” (R. A. Proctor). . . 25 

8. Mr. Butler’s Ward. A Novel. By F. Mabel Robinson 25 

9. John Needham’s Double. A Novel. By Joseph Hatton 26 

10. The Mahdi. By James Darmesteter. With Portraits 25 

11. The World or London. By Count Vasili 25 

12. The Waters of Hercules. A Novel 25 

13. She’s All the World to Me. A Novel. By Hall Caine. ..... 26 

14. A Hard Knot. A Novel. By Charles Gibbon 26 

15. Fish and Men in the Maine Islands. By W. H. Bishop. Ill’d. 25 

16. Uncle Jack, and Other Stories. By Walter Besant 25 

17. Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel 25 

18. Souvenirs of Some Continents. By Archibald Forbes, LL.D . . 25 

19. Cut by the County. A Novel. By M. E. Braddon 25 

20. No Medium. A Novel. By Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) . 25 

21. Paul Crew’s Story. By A. C. Carr 25 

22. Old-World Questions and New- World Answers. By Daniel 

Pidgeon, F.G.S., Assoc. Inst. C.E 25 

23. In Peril and Privation. By James Payn. Illustrated 26 

24. The Flower of Doom, and Other Stories. By M. Betham- 

Ed wards 25 

25. The Luck of the Darrells. A Novel. By James Payn 26 

26. Houp-la. a Novelette. By John Strange Winter. 25 

27. Self-Doomed. A Novel. By B. L. Farjeon 26 

28. Malthus and His Work. By James Bonar, M.A 26 

Other volumes in 'preparation. 


^8®=* Harper & Brothers 'voill send any of the above works by mail, postage pre-> 
paid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER 1. 

MASTER FINK RELATES CERTAIN INTORESTING PARTICU- 
LARS CONCERNING HIS APPRENTICE, GIDEON WOLF. 

I AM truly glad to see you; this meeting has 
warmed my heart. It is one of life’s pleasantest 
experiences to shake the hand of an old friend, and 
to learn from his own lips that he has not forgotten 
you in his wanderings. I am sorely grieved to hear 
that you have lost your faithful mate, the dear wom- 
an who was your companion for so many years. Be 
comforted ; we shall meet them again, these beloved 
ones. Resignation, friend, resignation. There are 
griefs which all mortals have to bear. Happy the 
man in whose heart shines the bright star of Hope, 
and who derives consolation from it. It is a solace 
born of Faith the comforter, and it is beyond price. 

You are anxious to know what has become of my 
people ? Name them, friend. Gideon Wolf, my ap- 
prentice ? And pretty Katrine Loebeg, too — you are 


2 


SELF-DOOMED. 


curious about her? Strange that you should bring 
their names into association, for when you last visited 
me, twelve years ago, there was nothing between those 
two ; I may say that with confidence. Indeed, it is 
scarcely possible there could have been, for Katrine 
was but thirteen. A beautiful maiden, truly, but 
her heart was not then ripe enough for love ; she was 
a mere child. Twelve years ago ! Ah me, aH me ! 
How time fiies ! The three best seasons have passed 
over my head, and I am in the winter of my life. 
But I feel young sometimes even now — yes, indeed, 
I am good for many a year, I hope. I am fond of 
life, and I have much to be grateful for, though I 
stand alone in the world, without wife or child. 

Gideon Wolf and Katrine Loebeg ! Gracious heav- 
ens, the contrast ! Truly a wolf and a lamb ; a hawk 
and a dove ; a poisonous weed and a pure white lily. 
But you were as much a stranger to those two when 
you were here last as you are at the present moment. 
Old Anna was my house-keeper then. You remem- 
ber Anna; you had good jokes with her, and she 
liked you ; she said you were a proper man. Where 
is she now, you ask ? In her grave. She served me 
faithfully, and lived till she was nearly eighty. Ah, 
she was a treasure — you don’t often meet with such. 
Everything went on in the house from hour to hour, 
from day to day, from week to week, like a well regu- 
lated clock. And what beautiful stews she made! 


SELF-DOOMED. 


3 


Never, never shall I taste the like again. I have 
another house-keeper now. Hush ! She is here. 
******* 

She has gone, and will not trouble us again to- 
night. You are thoughtful — you observed some- 
thing strange in her. Her dead - white face, her 
long silvery hair, her great fixed eyes have impressed 
you. Why, yes — she never seems to see anything 
that is before her, but to be forever gazing into a 
world invisible to all other human beings. What she 
beholds there. Heaven only knows, though I some- 
times fancy I can see with my mind’s eye the terri- 
ble scene which shall abide with her to the last hour 
of her life, and the figures who played their parts 
therein. On rare occasions I have heard her address- 
ing them, but in a tone so low that her words have 
not reached my ears. To me she never speaks except 
upon the duties of the house, or in reply to a question 
I ask her. You will scarcely believe that she was 
beautiful once — very, very beautiful — and that she 
might have picked and chosen. No, she was never 
married. What a pitiful look in her eyes? Yes, 
yes ; it is enough to move one to sadness. What is 
it you desire to know? Is she in her right mind? 
No, she is mad ! 

Yes, she is mad, but she is perfectly harmless, and 
goes about her duties well enough in her dull, monot- 
onous way, and is a good cook, too, but not so good 


4 


SELF-DOOMED. 


as Anna. That is not to be wondered at. There 
never was another cook like Anna. My mouth wa- 
ters when I think of her. This one is not old. You 
will scarcely credit it — she is not yet six-and-twenty. 
Ah, you may well open your eyes. But if you will 
consider a little, you will not be able to recall the 
memory of any old woman whose white hair was so 
thick and abundant, and who wore it loose, as this 
young one does, almost to her knees. Not many 
years ago her hair was golden brown, and we used 
to gaze upon it and upon her with delight and admi- 
ration — for her eyes were the brightest of any, and 
her face had a beautiful color in it. 

Fill your pipe again, and draw closer to the fire. 
How the wind shrieks without! There are angry 
spirits abroad; it is a mercy we are comfortably 
housed. So ! Settle yourself in your arm-chair, and 
I will tell you the story of Gideon Wolf, who worked 
for me till he was twenty-four years of age, and who 
was not satisfied with tlie fruits of honest labor, be- 
cause it did not enable liim to grow rich in a month. 
That was Ids sole idea of happiness — riches, nothing 
but riches. The flowers of the fields, the fragrance 
of the hedges, the singing of the birds, the beauty of 
the heavens, all the wonders of nature — they were 
naught to him. He set up an idol for himself, and 
he worshipped it with all his might. Did a carriage 
roll past the door, he would look up fi’om his woik 


SELF-DOOMED. 


5 


with discontent in his eyes, and an expression on his 
face which said, as plainly as if he had uttered the 
words aloud, “ Why haven’t / a carriage ? Why should 
/walk, while others ride?” Did a gentleman in a 
fine coat enter my shop to leave his watch to be 
cleaned, there on Gideon’s face' was always the same 
miserable expression. 

^‘Master Fink,” he said, “the poor are much to 
be pitied.” 

“So are the rich, Gideon,”! answered. “I doubt 
whether of the two, the poor have not the most rea- 
son to be grateful.” 

“ Grateful !” he cried. “For what? For having 
so little, while the rich have so much?” 

“Every back to its burden,” I said. “Go on with 
your work, my lad, and make the best of things. You 
will be the happier for it.” 

But it was not in his nature to follow such good 
advice. Did he drink beer he turned it sour by 
grumbling that it wasn’t wine. He envied every- 
body who had finer things than he could afford to 
buy, and the jingling of silver in other people’s 
pockets sent the blood rushing angrily through his 
veins. I knew that he hungered for money, but I 
was not afraid that he would rob me. I was a sharp 
blade at my business, and my property was safe from 
his itching fingers. Let a spring, a pair of hands, the 
smallest of wheels be missing, and I was sure to find 


6 


SELF-DOOMED. 


it out. He was aware of this; I had taken some pains 
to make him understand it. Besides, if he had robbed 
me of all I possessed it would not have contented 
him. That is one of the curses of such natures as 
his — never to be satisfied, never to be even grateful. 

When his apprenticeship was out I still employed 
him, paying him piece by piece for the work he did. 
Had I paid him a regular wage he would have got 
the advantage of me. He did not earn a great deal; 
after deducting what was due for his board and lodg- 
ing there was seldom at the end of the week more 
than a florin for him to receive. He spent upon his 
clothes more than he was warranted in doing, for he 
aped the fashions of his betters. It was money 
thrown away ; the finest clothes in the world could 
not make Gideon Wolf look like a gentleman. Then 
he indulged in a terrible vice which eats into the soul 
of a man — he was a gambler. He had a poor moth- 
er, fifty miles away, who, he would declare with a 
liypocritical look at the rafters, depended upon him 
for support. With what a long face would he come 
to me and say, 

‘^Master Fink, my dear mother is sick — very, very 
sick ! I beg of you to lend me five florins to send 
her. It will be an act of true charity. You can put 
it down to my account. Do not fear that you will 
lose anything by me. One day I shall be rich, and I 
will repay you every florin.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


7 


But he gave his mother nothing; it was within my 
knowledge that during all the years he was in my 
service he had not sent her the smallest coin. Some- 
times it was not for his mother that he begged 
money of me. 

Ah, what an adventure, Master Fink — what a 
sad, melancholy adventure !” he would say, bursting 
in upon me suddenly. 

“ What is the matter, now, Gideon I would ask, 
preparing for the shock. 

“ Oh, the world — the cruel, cruel world !” he would 
moan. “You know, Master Fink, that I went from 
here with three florins in my pocket, which I intended 
to pay Muller the tailor off the just debt I owe him.” 

“ Proceed, Gideon.” 

“ On the outskirts of the town I met a poor un- 
fortunate woman — ” 

“ On the outskirts of the town, Gideon ? That is 
not the way to Muller’s shop.” 

“ Muller was not in when I called, so, the day be- 
ing flne, I took a walk through the woods. Was it 
good or bad fortune. Master Fink, that the idea came 
into my head of walking through the woods?” 

“ Until you further enlighten me I cannot say.” 

“You shall hear all. In the woods I met this poor 
unfortunate woman. She had no shoes to her feet, 
and only a thin torn dress upon her body; and oh. 
Master Fink, she had a baby in her arms who was 


8 


SELF-DOOMED. 


sobbing for want of foojd. The wretched creature 
told me her sad story, and begged me, if I had a 
mother of my own, to save her child from starva- 
tion. What could I do? I am poor — yes, I am 
poor, and the money in my pocket really belonged 
to Muller, but could I resist so heart-rending an ap- 
peal ? Could you have resisted it ? No, you are too 
humane, and because I am not rich, am I to be de- 
prived of the pleasure of doing a good action? I 
did as you would have done. Without considering 
how I should replace the three florins I gave them 
to the poor woman, who crawled away, calling down 
blessings on my head.” 

“You want me to lend you three florins to pay 
Muller.” 

“ Yes, Master Fink, to lend it, not to give it. You 
must not rob me of the pleasure of doing an act of 
charity.” 

To these and numberless other stories I would 
listen, without troubling myself to contradict him. 
What would have been the use ? As long as I kept 
Gideon with me it was best not to come to words 
with him, and I bore with many things of which I 
did not approve. Occasionally I lent him a portion 
of what he asked for, taking care that he did not get 
too deeply in my debt, and I used to think with won- 
der of the amazing amount of deceit that could be 
hidden in the breast of one human being. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


9 


I see in your eyes the question. Why, if 1 did not 
like Gideon Wolf, did I continue to employ him? 
Why did I keep him, an indifferent workman, in my 
shop, when there were so many better men looking 
for work who would have been grateful to me all the 
days of their lives if I had taken them on ? For it 
is not workmen that are difficult to find ; it is mas- 
ters. Well, there was a strong human reason, and I 
may speak of it now because it will hurt no one. It 
was not for the sake of Gideon Wolf, but for the 
sake of his mother, that I kept him with me. 

Friend, I am going to open for you a chapter of 
my life which few have read. 


10 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER 11. 

A LOVE-CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF MASTER FINK. 

The village in which 1 was born lies fifty miles 
from this spot, and is one of those places hidden in 
odd nooks and corners which the busy world seems 
either to have forgotten or to regard as of too slight 
importance to take any notice of. It moves neither 
backward nor forward; it is the same to-day as it 
was a hundred years ago. Its houses, its roads, its 
little shops, its bits of garden, its church, are the 
same now as then, and, unless something startling oc- 
curs, will be the same at the end of another hundred 
years. There are families living there at this mo- 
ment whose great-great-grandfathers lived there — in 
the self-same cottages, grown now so old that their 
walls are rotting and crumbling away. The people, 
with scarcely an exception, are all of them poor, and 
live a life of contentment. As I should have done 
perhaps — my family for five generations having done 
so before me — had it not happened that I fell in 
love with Louisa Wagner. 

I have spoken of the beauty of Katrine Loebeg. 
Louisa Wagner was even more beautiful. Do not 


SELF-DOOMED. 


11 


think I say so because I loved her ; it was univer- 
sally acknowledged; and just in the way Katrine 
was sought after here, so was Louisa sought after in 
the village in which I was born. I may say, without 
running the risk of being thought vain, that I was a 
well -looking lad. It is undoubtedly a fact that I was 
industrious, and not given to tippling. From my 
father I learned the mysteries of the art of watch- 
making. Our family had been the village w^atch and 
clock menders for generations. There was, however, 
not enough business in that line to be picked up 
among the scanty and poor population to support us, 
so my grandfather, and my father after him, took to 
cobbling boots and shoes to eke out a living. I also 
learned to cobble, and was no mean hand at it. We 
were, therefore, the village watch-menders and cob- 
blers, and managed to rub on, chiefly, it must be 
owned, by the patching of leather, which is a degree 
or two lower in the social scale than the art which 
teaches you how to put together the delicate works 
of a watch. 

Louisa Wagner was the only child of a laborer on 
the private estate of the owner of the village lands, 
and in falling in love with her I fell in love with a 
girl in my own station in life. 

Heavens ! how beautiful she was ! Her cheeks 
were handsomer than the handsomest peach, her 
eyes were as bright as the brightest stars, her skin 


12 


SELF-DOOMED. 


was as soft as the softest velvet. To me what a 
vision of brightness ! Where on this earth was to be 
found her equal? In my belief, nowhere. That is 
the way of lovers for a time. No feeling so potent 
as that which agitates the heart of a young man as 
he contemplates the being upon whom he has set his 
affections. Gradually the change comes, as we all 
live to learn. The heavenly light fades slowly away, 
and life’s hard lessons, no less than the strange work- 
ings of the human heart, recall us to a sterner reality. 
Happy those who find themselves cast upon a peace- 
ful shore, where they can enjoy the calmer and more 
enduring affection which sometimes follows the sub- 
sidence of love’s delirium ! 

For weeks and weeks I nursed my passion, fed on 
it, was made happy by it. Louisa Wagner did not 
appear to look on me with coldness ; nay, she seemed 
flattered by my ardent glances, and, as I believed, 
had a feeling stronger for me than that of ordinary 
friendship. That she should love me with such de- 
votion as I loved her was not to be thought of. This 
love of a young man when it is pure, as mine was, 
ennobles him, and beautifies all surrounding things. 
I sang at my work, though it was even so mean as 
the patching of boots. Louisa had two pairs of boots, 
-and I soled and heeled them, one after the other, and 
my lieart went into the stitches. I held them in my 
hands and kissed them — yes, I am not ashamed to 


SELF-DOOMED. 


IB 


confess it, I kissed them in a kind of rapture. I took 
them to bed with me. By the side of my bed hung 
a cage with a linnet in it. I told the bird in a whis- 
per that the boots belonged to Louisa — ah, what fool- 
ish, foolish things we do when the fever is upon us ! 
— and the linnet trilled out its joyfullest notes. I 
laughed, I chirruped, I shed tears, and when I knelt 
at my bedside and repeated my prayers, I pressed 
Louisa’s boots to my heart. Upon the soling and 
heeling of those boots I would have liked to challenge 
the world. Surely such excellent workmanship could 
not have been produced by other hands than mine. 
Louisa Wagner thought so, and said so, as she took 
them from me and examined them. 

“ You will see,” I said, “ they will last for years ” 

“ They are beautifully done,” she said, and I fan- 
cied she gave me an admiring glance; ‘^such fine 
stitches ! You are really clever.” 

“ I can earn a living,” I said, and my voice trem- 
bled because of the meaning I wished to convey in 
the words. 

“ But,” she said, “ I cannot pay you for them for a 
long, long while. You will have to wait.” 

^‘In money,” I said, “you can never pay me.” 

“ Oh yes, I can, Gustave Fink,” she replied. 

“ISTo,” I insisted, “ indeed you never can.” 

“ Why ?” she asked. 

“ I did not do them for money. I wish you 


14 


SELF-DOOMED. 


to accept them from me; it will make me very 
proud.” 

She thanked me quite readily, saying, “ Well, if 
you will have it so, Gustave Fink,” and gave me the 
sweetest smile. 

I ran home in a tremor of delight, carrying her 
smile with me. It is a fact. Her smiling face was 
before me all the way. 

Of course I told my linnet the news — how that 
Louisa had accepted my work, and paid me for it 
with the sweetest smile — and the bird sang gayly, 
and the rhythm and the tenderness of the song found 
an echo in my heart. Up to this point the linnet was 
ray sole confidant. Not to another creature did I 
breathe my secret. None the less did I look upon 
myself as Louisa Wagner’s accepted lover. After 
what had passed — which, as you see, I magnified into 
tlie most ridiculous importance — how could it be oth- 
erwise ? I was satisfied, I was happy. That when 1 
could find courage to speak plainly to her she would 
place her hand in mine, and permit me to touch her 
lips with mine, I entertained not the slightest doubt. 

I was a proud young fellow the following Sunday 
when I saw her walking in the boots I had repaired 
for her, and which looked like new. She wore a new 
cotton dress, and a bit of new ribbon round her white 
throat, and I settled it in my mind that tliey were 
worn for me. No man has ever tasted a greater hap- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


15 


piness than I did on that day. But I could not find 
courage to speak to Louisa of the love which made 
my heart like a garden of sweet flowers. I walked 
by her side and was contented. 

Ah, how it all comes back to me! The meeting at 
the church door, the walk through the church-yard 
and the village till we came to her father’s cottage, 
the stupid talk about the boots 1 

“ I never felt so comfortable in my life,” she said ; 

they are as easy as if I had worn them for years. 
And they do not make my feet look large.” 

Her feet look large 1 In my eyes they were the 
feet of a princess. How, as she put out her foot, and 
I was gazing at it in a sort of rapture, who should 
come up to us but a neighbor of mine, a wheelwriglit, 
Steven Wolf by name. 

I can see the picture as plainly as if it were bodily 
before me in the room. I turn towards the Are, and 
I see the picture there in the glowing coals. 

^^The prettiest foot in all the village,” cried Steven 
Wolf, ‘‘and the prettiest mouth, and the loveliest 
eyes !” 

His voice jarred upon me. It “was like the voice 
of a brawler calling out in the church and interrupt- 
ing the service. Ho wonder, I thought, that Louisa 
should blush as he gazed boldly at her. His look 
was a profanation. To save the girl I loved from 
further indignity I bade her good-bye and left her. 


16 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Turning my head for a. moment as I walked away, 
it pierced my heart like the thrust of a needle to see 
that Steven Wolf had followed her into her father’s 
cottage. 

I have called Steven Wolf a wheelwright. Well, he 
might be that for two days in the week ; for the oth- 
er five an indolent sot. He bore a bad character in 
the village, and there was much suspicious talk con- 
cerning him. How could Louisa’s father encourage 
such a character at his hearth ? But I could not for- 
get that old Wagner and Steven Wolf were by no 
means on unfriendly terms. They were often seen 
together. “ When Louisa is mine,” I thought, and I 
have the right to protect her, she shall have nothing 
to say to this vagabond.” When Louisa was mine ! 
Ah, fraught with happiness was the future I mapped 
out! I resolved to speak to her soon — before the 
end of the week, if I could find an opportunity. 

On the Monday Steven Wolf thrust his head into 
toy little shop, where I sat working. 

“What a fine pair of soles you put on Louisa 
Wagner’s boots!” he cried. “Here — mend mine at 
the same price.” And ho filing down a pair. 

I threw them back at him with passionate words. 
He picked them up and walked off, laughing heartily. 
In the evening of the same day I saw him and Louisa 
walking together, and I made the acquaintance of 
that torturer, jealousy. There was no sleep for me 


SELF-DOOMED. 


17 


that night. When I came upon them Louisa did not 
see me, but he, looking me full in the face, gave me 
a malicious, triumphant smile to feed upon. I did 
feed upon it for days and days till I could bear it no 
longer, and determined to know the best or the worst 
that could befall me. 

I spoke to Louisa ; I declared my love for her ; I 
told her I was able to support her, and I asked her 
to be my wife. She answered me in the kindest 
manner, and I learned that she had already promised 
to become the wife of Steven Wolf. I stood trans- 
fixed ; my life seemed most suddenly and horribly to 
have come to an end. 

“ Do not hate me,” she said. “ I am very, very 
sorry !” 

. “ I cannot hate you,” I replied. My voice was so 
Strange in my ears that I could scarcely believe it 
was I who was speaking. “ I shall love you all my 
days.” 

“ We are still friends,” she said, holding out her 
hand. 

‘‘ Yes,” I said, sadly, “ we are still friends. It is 
not possible 1 could ever be your enemy.” 

I took her hand, and held it in mine. Tears gushed 
from my eyes as I felt the sympathetic pressure of 
her fingers. 

‘^You will see some other girl whom you will 
love,” she said. “ You are a good man ; every one 
2 


18 


SELF-DOOMED. 


speaks well of you; your wife will be proud of 
you.” 

I shall never marry,” I said, I love only one.” 

Our conversation was interrupted by Steven Wolf, 
who stole abruptly upon us. 

No poaching !” he cried. Respect the rights 
of property.” 

“ It is not in that way,” I said, and I confess that 
at that moment I felt a deadly hatred towards him, 
“ I should speak of the girl I was going to marry.” 

You choose your way,” he retorted, and 1 will 
choose mine. Not a bad way, is it?” 

And he put his arm round Louisa’s waist. Her 
eyes were cast down ; she never looked at me. 

Words are wasted between us,” I said. Fare- 
well, Louisa Wagner. May you be happy.” 

He sent a shout of mocking laughter after me. 

“ Truly,” I could not help thinking, in good feel- 
ing I have the advantage of you.” 

I suffered terribly, and for some time my mind 
was plunged into such darkness that I could see no 
gleam of goodness in all the wide world. That is 
the selfish view we take of things when sorrow comes 
to our door. “ Why,” I asked myself, “ does Louisa 
Wagner marry that brute and gambler instead of an 
honest, hard-working youngster who not only loves 
but respects her? For what reason does she prefer 
him to me ?” If I could have answered those ques- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


19 


tions I might be able to tell yon more than I know 
of the workings of a woman’s heart. It is beyond 
me, and beyond yon, and therefore I have kept my- 
self free *from woman’s power from that day to this. 
I recovered my peace of mind, and so that it might 
not again be disturbed by the sight of the woman I 
loved, I left my native village with my knapsack on 
my shoulders, and came here, where I set np in busi- 
ness for myself as a watch-maker, and have jogged on 
ever since, with a fair share of happiness and con- 
tent. There is no condition of life in which a man 
has not good reason to be grateful. I have grown to 
know this, and it has been of value to me in my re- 
flections upon life’s trials and disappointments. I 
have my work, I have my connection, I owe no one 
a florin, I am at peace with the world. That is hap- 
piness enough. 


20 


BELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER III. 

EELATES HOW GIDEON WOLF BECAME MASTER FINk’s 
APPRENTICE. 

Year after year passed peacefully and prosperous- 
ly over my head until eighteen years had gone by. 
I was fortunate in many ways — in making friends, 
in earning respect, in forming a connection, and in 
obtaining the services of old Anna, who served me 
so long and so faithfully. Her age and her lack of 
beauty saved me from much anxiety. She had no 
wooers, no men dancing at her heels; I doubt, if I 
myself had offered to marry her, whether she would 
have accepted me. Not that such an idea ever 
entered my head. Heaven forbid ! I had too great 
a respect for her years. 

One morning, at the end of this time, a woman 
entered my shop — a pale, thin, eldei-lydooking wom- 
an, with an expression of intense weariness on her 
worn face. She gazed at me wistfully, and I at her 
in pity. 

“Master Fink?” she said. 

“ Yes,” I said, “ I am he.” 

As I spoke I recognized her, changed as she was. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


21 


My old sweetheart, Louisa Wagner, stood before me. 
It saddened me to look at her. Her eyes were dim, 
her hair was nearly white; and my hair was still 
brown, and my eyes clear and strong, and in my heart 
some gladness reigned. Ah me ! Time’s hand had 
weighed heavily upon her during the eighteen years 
which had flown by since last I saw her. Had, then, 
all the flowers of her life withered ? No — one still 
bloomed, and brought joy to her; but this I had yet 
to learn. No joy was now in her face, only deep 
anxiety and weariness. I saw that she was ready to 
faint from fatigue. 

^^Have you come specially to see me?” I asked. 

Yes,” she sighed. 

“Where from?” 

“From our native village.” 

“ You have ridden here ?” I said. 

“ No,” she replied, faintly, “ I walked.” 

“Walked !” I exclaimed. “ Why, it is fifty miles!” 

“Yes,” she murmured, “it is flfty miles. What a 
long, long road ! But I am here at last, thank God 1” 

I divined that it was no light errand that had 
brought her to me, and it was evident that her 
strength was spent. It was as much as she could do 
to prevent herself from sinking to the ground. I 
hastily summoned Anna from her kitchen, and bade 
her attend to my visitor. A heart of quick sympa- 
thy beat in my old Anna’s breast, and without asking 


22 


SELF-DOOMED. 


who the woman was she administered to her wants. 
It was not without difficulty that this was accom- 
plished, for Louisa was so eager to disclose her er- 
rand that, had she been allowed to have her way, she 
would not have tasted food until she had acquainted 
me with her mission. But Anna insisted, and so did 
I, and she had not the strength to reject the kindly 
offices which were forced upon lier. When she had 
drank a basin of nourishing soup which Anna pre- 
pared — I never really knew what soup was till Anna 
made it for me ; what a treasure that woman was ! — 
I told her I was ready to listen to her. 

I have come to you for help,” she said. 

I will give it to you,” I replied, “ if it is in my 
power.” 

She bent her head humbly and gratefully. 

You can see,” she said, that I am very poor.” 

I grieve, to see it.” 

And indeed my heart bled for her. Had the pict- 
ure of her as she was at that time presented itself to 
me eighteen years before, with the words, This is 
what the beautiful girl by your side will become in 
a few years,” I should have laughed at it in derision 
as a monstrous impossibility. Her eyes that were 
bright as the stars, her cheek that rivalled the peach 
in delicate bloom, her skin that was soft as velvet, 
where were they now ? Ah, Beauty, Beauty, be not 
over-vain and confident I Old Father Time has tricks 


SELF-DOOMED. 


23 


in store for you of which you do not dream as you 
walk, lithe and proud and happy, through the flowery 
paths of youth. Be humble, maiden, and grateful 
for your fair outside, and pray to God not to weigh 
you down with care and trouble. 

These thoughts crossed my mind as I gazed at the 
pale, thin woman who had walked fifty weary miles 
to beg me to assist her. 

Presently she disclosed what she wished me to do 
for her. 

Her husband, Steven Wolf, had been dead six 
years, having done his best during his life to im- 
bitter her days. She did not tell me this ; she did 
not say that he had ill-treated her, had passed his 
hours in the ale-house, had made her slave for him, 
had never given her a loving word after the first few 
months of their marriage ; but it was the truth. He 
had led her a life of misery, and, when he died, left 
her in the direst poverty. She took up her burden 
meekly, and ^battled on as women do, more bravely 
than men, and did her duty to the uttermost extent 
of her power. Her parents were dead, and she had 
no friends in a position to help her. Indeed, she led 
me to infer, more from the construction I placed 
upon her words than from the words themselves, that 
the friends of her girlhood had fallen off from her 
— driven away, of course, by the vagabond she had 
married. But she had one treasure, one dear, price- 


24 


SELF-DOOMED. 


less treasure, which compensated for all her suffering, 
which kept hope alive even in her sad life. She had 
a child, a boy, and his name was Gideon. Two other 
children had been born to her, but she had lost them, 
and Gideon was the only one left. A heavenly light 
came into her eyes as she spoke of him; color 
touched her cheeks ; her skin seemed to grow whiter 
and smoother. There, in the mother, I saw once 
again, for a brief space, the presentment of the beau- 
tiful girl I had loved in my youth. She told me 
much of her darling that interested me — how brave 
he was, how truthful, bright, intelligent — how that he 
was the pride of her life, and the best son a loving 
mother was ever blessed with. 

He is growing fast,” she said, her eyes beaming 
with pride, and, please God, in a few years will be 
a fine handsome man. I wish to perform my duty 
by him ; I wish him to learn a trade from an honest 
master who will set him a good example. Your fa- 
ther, Gustave Fink, was an upright, just man, and it 
was his example that helped you to become one your- 
self. In our little village there is no opportunity for 
a lad to learn a trade that will advance him in the 
world. He must learn it elsewhere, and my prayer 
is that I may live to see my boy prosperous and 
honored, with a wife and children about him who 
shall look up to him with love and respect, and with 
his old mother sitting perhaps in a corner of his fire- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


25 


side, praising the good Lord for the blessings he has 
showered upon her. Ah, what happiness, what hap^ 
piness !” 

Her slight form shook, and her face was bedewed 
with tears, as she spoke of this happy future. 

Do you propose,” I asked, to leave the village 
yourself, if you find a master elsewhere for your son ?” 

“ Oh no,” she replied with eager haste ; “ I should 
be a clog upon him, a burden ; he could not support 
me, and it might be that I should not be able to sup- 
port myself among strangers. No, I must stop in the 
old place, where I can manage to make a living, and 
I will wait patiently till my son is a man, and says, 
‘ Mother, come to me ; I have a home for you.’ Oh, 
Gustave Fink, you took a bold step when you left our 
village, a bold right step, for the world has prospered 
with you.” 

I acknowledge it gratefully,” I said. 

“This shop is your own — you are the master here.” 

“ It is my own — I am the master here.” 

“Be my son’s master! Teach him your trade — 
let him profit by your example ; counsel him, guide 
him ! You will lose nothing by it, he is so good, so 
quick, so willing, so obedient ! If you searched the 
whole world through you would not find another lad 
so bright, so easy to teach and mould. Ah, Gustave 
Fink, I beg of you, I implore you !” 

So eager was she, so fearful lest I should refuse 


26 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Iier, that she would have knelt to me had I not pre- 
vented her. 

My mind had been made up while she was speak- 
ing. Long before she finished her appeal I knew 
what proposal she was about to make to me, and I 
had resolved to do as she wished me to do. Do not 
misunderstand me. I was not influenced by any 
stupid sentimentality in the matter. No, no ; all that 
had passed away, and I was now a practical man 
who would not permit sentiment to interfere with 
his business. I had a shrewd eye for a good bargain, 
and here was one unexpectedly offered to me. Be- 
sides, was it not a fine revenge ? 

“Louisa Wolf,” I said, “I will do what you desire; 
your weary journey shall not be fruitless. I will take 
your son as my apprentice, and will do my best by 
him.” 

She simply said, “God will reward you!” and then 
she turned aside, and cried quietly to herself. 

She remained with me for quite three hours, rest- 
ing herself for her return journey home, and she, ac- 
cepted a trifle of money to assist her on her way. 
Not a word of the days that were gone was spoken 
by either of us — that will show you that there was 
no sentiment mixed up with this affair. I did not 
mention the name of Steven Wolf, nor did she, nor 
did the slightest reference to the love I had borne for 
her escape our lips. What we thought, we thought. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


27 


It is necessary sometimes to keep a strict watch over 
tongue and mind, so that our worldly calculations may 
not be upset. Her lips quivered as she pressed my 
hand and bade me good-bye ; but it was not I who 
caused her emotion ; it was the thought of her son 
Gideon, from whom she was so soon to be separated. 


28 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER IV. 

MASTER FINK HAS A SINGULAR DREAM. 

But although in our waking hours we are general- 
ly successful in keeping the workings of our mind in 
check, it is different when we are asleep. Then we 
are the slaves, and imagination is the master, the ma- 
gician which plays us the most extravagant pranks. It 
is like sitting in a theatre, witnessing the representa- 
tion of a play which sways us this way and that, which 
makes us laugh, which makes us weep, which makes 
us enjoy, which makes us suffer. 

On the night following Louisa’s departure I dream- 
ed of the old days and of Louisa in the pride of her 
beauty. I was sitting on my low stool, soling and 
heeling her boots, golden boots, with jewels round 
the eyelet holes, A silver hammer was in my hand, 
and as I tapped and tapped and drove in the shining 
nails, musical notes rang out. 

Louisa is yours; she loves you, loves you, loves# 
you !” 

And then the linnet which hung above me in a 
crystal cage piped sweetly, 

“ Let me out — let me out !” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


29 


I opened the door of the cage, and straight through 
the window flew the little bird — through the open win- 
dow, from^ which I saw the church and the church- 
yard so closely associated with one memorable Sun- 
day in my life. And who should come dancing to- 
wards me over the tombstones but Louisa, dressed in 
the self-same dress she had worn on that Sabbath, and 
with the self-same bit of ribbon at her throat. The 
linnet, wheeling round and round her pretty head, 
encircled it witli thin lines of light, and still in the 
musical ringing of the silver hammer I heard the 
song, 

“ She loves you, loves you, loves you !” 

Suddenly we were walking in a great fleld of flow- 
ers, and I was gazing in rapture at Louisa’s golden 
boots. A thousand linnets were singing above us, 
the flowers were whispering around us, Louisa’s hand 
was resting in mine. 

“ Then it is all a dream these eighteen years,” I 
said to her. 

And she answered, Yes, it is all a dream. How 
could you be so foolish as to believe that I loved any 
•man but you? What proof of my love shall I give 
f you ?” 

“ Make this fleld of flowers,” I said, “ grow above 
our heads, so that we shall be hidden from the world, 
and there shall be only you and I.” 

Immediately the flowers began to grow higher. 


30 


SELF-DOOMED. 


higher, higher, shutting out the light till we were in 
almost perfect darkness, and then the linnet came 
and perched on my shoulder, and whisper(?d, 

“ She is fooling you ! She is not a young girl at 
all ; she is an old witch ! Put me in your waistcoat- 
pocket, and you will see what she really is.” 

I did so, and the linnet ticked like a watch : 

“She loves — not you — not you — not you. She 
loves — a wolf — a wolf — a wolf.” 

And through a pathway of light in the field of 
flowers ran Louisa, changed into a shrivelled old 
woman with gold boots on her feet, and after her 
raced Steven Wolf, wdio, catching her, fiung her high 
in the air. I rushed with fury upon the monster, 
and he raised a great sheet of bright brass, and 
crashed it on my head — 

Bang! The din was enough to drive one crazy, 
and Louisa screaming at the top of her voice as she 
spun round and round in the air, with her golden 
boots — 

Bang ! Bang ! Bang ! I jumped out of bed in a 
fright, and ran to the bedroom door and threw it 
open ; and there I beheld old Anna sitting in the pas- 
sage outside, crying in her loudest voice that every 
bone in her body was broken, while a lot of my best 
plates and dishes, all in little pieces, lay around her. 
She was coming down-stairs with a trayful of crock- 
ery in her arms when she tripped, and fell all the 


SELF-DOOMED. 


31 


way down. That was the end of my dream. I 
could not help laughing heartily at it, which made 
old Anna cross-tempered the whole of the day. 

After breakfast I thought over my interview with 
Louisa, and of the new apprentice who would soon 
take up his abode with us. How his mother would 
grieve at parting from him ! It would never have 
done for me to have married that trustful woman. 
She was so unworldly that she had never even asked 
me whether Gideon was to receive any wages during 
the seven years of his apprenticeship. It was an act 
of folly which would have made me angry had she 
been my wife ; but she had been another man’s, and 
he had broken her heart. That was as clear as the 
light which, shining through my shop-windows, had 
exposed her gray hairs to the eyes of one who, years 
ago, was ready to die for Iier. To think that, at any 
time of his life, a man should be so simple as to have 
such ideas ! 

So Gideon Wolf came to me, and, being duly ap- 
prenticed, lived with me and learned my trade. Old 
Anna was against it from the first. I had taken the 
important step without consulting her, and the mo- 
ment she set eyes on Gideon she prophesied that 
evil would come of his residence in the house. 

Have not things gone on well enough to please 
you. Master Fink ?” she asked. 

“They have always gone on well,” I replied. 


32 


SELF-DOOMED. 


^^Theii you must be growing avaricious in your 
old age,” she remarked. 

Old age has not come upon me yet, Anna,” I 
said, and if 1 had a grain of avariciousness in my 
body I would pluck it out by the root.” 

Anna was as much a companion as a servant, and 
I had too great a respect for her to be angry at any- 
thing she said. 

Why do you make the change, then. Master Fink ?” 

I could not answer her without deceiving her, so 
I merely shrugged my shoulders and smiled. 

Ah, you may smile,” she continued, “ and make 
light of it; but that won’t alter what’s done. Tell 
me one thing. Master Fink.” 

I will tell you many, Anna — that is, as many as 
I can.” 

‘^When you have a watch in good going order, 
one that has not lost or gained a minute for years, 
that you can depend upon as you can depend upon 
the sun, is it the act of a good workman, out of sim- 
ple wilfulness, to take it to pieces and put it together 
again ?” 

“ I understand your meaning, Anna, but rely upon 
me — I have a good reason for what I have done. 
Let us not anticipate evil. Go down to your kitchen, 
and prepare for me my favorite dinner. French beans 
stewed sweet and sour. You have not your equal in 
that dish ; you really make me enjoy my life.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


33 


Before many months had passed I shared Anna’s 
fears respecting Gideon Wolf. Little by little it 
was made clear to me that he had a thoroughly bad 
nature, that he was sly, greedy, envious, small-minded, 
mean-spirited. Occasionally I sent his mother a 
small sum of money which I said was due for serv- 
ices he had rendered ; and you may be sure, in addi- 
tion to this, that I paid him fair wages. But had I 
known how he would turn out, I would as soon have 
taken the son of the Arch Fiend himself for my ap- 
prentice as the son of Louisa Wolf. Too late did I 
discover that I had made a bad bargain. 

3 


34 


SELF-DOOMED. 


’v\ 


CHAPTER Y. 

RELATES HOW Gn)EON WOLF WAS SEEN BY OLD ANNA i 
PLAYING CARDS WITH THE DEVIL. 

He grew into a tall, thin, sallow-faced young man, 
about as ill-favored as one of Pharaoh’s lean kine; 
with large splay feet ; with sandy hair ; with a nose 
which looked as if it had been broken in the middle 
by a violent blow ; with eyes as dull as the eyes of a 
fish ; with a voice in which was never heard a note 
of natural gayety. Such men are a mistake in the ^ 
world, and how any young woman can be drawn to 
them is a mysteiy which I defy students of human 
nature to satisfactorily explain. A mother’s love for 
her ugly bantling is easily understood, but a fine 
young woman’s, with bright eyes in her head, for 
such a scarecrow as Gideon Wolf is beyond ordinary 
comprehension. Yet they draw prizes these crooked- 
grained ones, while better men are left to sigh in 
vain. 

You have already heard how Gideon passed 
through his apprenticeship, and how I continued to 
employ him as a workman when his time was out. 

He was twenty-two years of age when, on a certain 


SELF-DOOMED. 


35 


evening, old Anna, who had been out marketing, 
burst in upon me with a plump goose in her hand, 
and cried in a great heat, 

“ Fine doings. Master Fink, fine doings ! It is high 
time the world came to an end.” 

“ What, in Heaven’s name, has put you in such a 
fever?” I inquired, looking up from the newspaper 
in which I \vas reading an account of a wonderful 
ox, which had a man’s head growing out of one 
shoulder and a turtle out of the other. “Ah,” I 
cried, in sudden fear, “that goose! You have been 
cheated. It is not a fresh goose ; it ought to have 
been eaten days ago, and the dealer will not change 
it. Give it to me — I will go to him myself — ” 

“ No need to trouble. Master Fink,” said Anna, in 
a slightly acid tone ; “ the goose is a good goose, and 
I bought it cheap. I should like to see the dealer 
who could take me in. Look at it.” 

I did more than look at it. I poked its ribs ; I 
felt its fat breast ; my eyes glistened. 

“Already, Anna,” I cried, joyously, “already I 
smell the stuffing 1” 

“ I don’t deny it ; I am fond of good cooking. It 
is nothing to be ashamed of; we were sent into the 
world to eat, as well as to do other things, and it is 
right that we should enjoy it.” 

“ It is not the goose that has put me in a fever,” 
said Anna, “it is Gideon Wolf.” 


36 


SELF-DOOMED. 


I pricked up my ears. ^^Has he been behaving 
rudely to you, Anna 

What !” she screamed, in a voice so shrill that I 
jumped in my chair. ^^He ! A lamp-post like him! 
If he dared, Vd box his ears till I set them on 
fire !” 

I laughed quietly ; I could not help it, her indig- 
nation was so comical. “ Well, then,” I asked, wip- 
ing my eyes, for I had brought the tears into them, 
“ what has he done ?” 

Her reply was brief and startling: “Gideon Wolf 
is courting.” 

“ It is not possible,” I cried ; “ you must be dream- 
ing.” 

“ I don’t dream,” said Anna, “ with my eyes wide 
open. This very evening, not ten minutes ago, as I 
was coming home, after buying the goose, I saw him 
with his arm round her waist.” 

“Bound the goose’s waist!” I exclaimed, for really 
she was beginning to confuse me. 

She looked at me solemnly, reproachfully. “ Pray 
to-night, Master Fink,” she said, “to be forgiven for 
making a joke of my words!” And she was about, 
to leave me. 

“ Stay, Anna,” I said, conscience-stricken, “ and par- 
don me. With his arm around whose waist?” 

“ Round Katrine Loebeg’s,” replied Anna, sorrow- 
fully. “The child — tlie poor, misguided child! It 


SELF-DOOMED. 


37 


was only yesterday I was nursing her on my knee 
and tossing her in the air.” 

Anna was deeply moved, and I scarcely less than 
she, at this disclosure. It was hardly to be believed 
that a fresh young heart like that which beat in the 
breast of pretty Katrine Loebeg should have given 
itself up to this scarecrow. But it was true. Gideon 
Wolf had cast a spell upon her, and she was as se- 
cure in his wiles as a trout on a hook. Sweet Katrine 
Loebeg! whom I looked upon almost as a child of my 
own, who could have chosen from the best, and for 
whom many a manly heart was aching ! An orphan, 
too, with no father to protect her, and no mother to 
warn her of the pitfalls which lie in the path of unsus- 
pecting, innocent maidenhood. That made it worse — 
a thousand times worse. What could there be in Gid- 
eon Wolf to attract that young soul? What unholy 
arts had he used to draw her to him ? Incredible as 
it seemed, it was most unhappily true that he had in- 
fatuated her, and was paying court to her. 

“ Did you speak to them, Anna ?” I asked. 

“ No j they did not see me.” 

But surely, Anna, this was not done in the open 
street 1” 

^‘No; that’s where the villany of it is. You know 
the archway on the right hand side of the Court of 
Public Justice. At this time of the day scarcely any 
one passes through it. I should not have done so had 


38 


SELF-DOOMED. 


I not wanted to go to the Blind House to give Moth- 
er Morel her paper of snuff. She is ninety-eight, but 
her nose is in splendid condition. It is the only sense 
she has left to enjoy. She is blind, she is deaf, she 
mumbles so that it is impossible to understand a word 
she says, and she has scarcely any feeling in her. Her 
nose is the only thing she has left which convinces 
her that she still belongs to this world; it is her sole 
comfort. Well, when I went through the archway 
no one was there, and outside the archway there were 
only the pigeons picking up the crumbs; but when 
I came back from the Blind House, there, in the 
darkest corner of the archway, was your treasure, 
Gideon Wolf—” 

‘‘Don’t call him my treasure,” I interrupted, mild- 
ly; “I have not a high opinion of him.” 

“ Why did you take him as your apprentice, then ? 
I warned you how it would be.” 

“ Is it possible,” I cried, testily, “ to find in this 
world a woman who will tell a story without fiying 
round it in every direction but the right one? Get 
out of that archway, Anna.” 

“ There was Gideon Wolf in the very darkest part 
of it, with his arm round Katrine’s waist. And un- 
less my ears are mistaken, I heard the sound of a 
kiss.” 

“When two young people are together like that, 
Anna, it is not an unlikely thing to happen.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


39 


Well/’ she asked, sharply, what are you going 
to do about it ?” 

“ That is a difficult question to answer. What can 
Ido?” 

“ There is no difficulty. You must prevent it from 
going any further.” 

‘‘ How, Anna ? In what way ? Gideon is no lon- 
ger my apprentice ; he is his own master ; he is an 
independent workman.” 

“ A fine workman he has turned out to be !” she 
cried, scornfully. ^'Over and over again have I said 
to myself, ‘ Why does Master Fink keep such a 
creature in the house? Why does he not bid him 
pack and be off ?’ It would not be believed if peo- 
ple knew all.” 

She was not in the secret of the little romance that 
was played when Gideon’s mother and I were boy 
and girl together. I had the greatest confidence in 
Anna, but this sentiment of my youthful days I had 
not divulged to any one. Besides, if in an unguard- 
ed moment I had confided in Anna I am doubtful 
whether she would have sympathized with me. She 
would not have looked at it through my spectacles. 
She might even have lost confidence in me, and that 
was a risk I did not care to run. 

‘‘You manage your kitchen,” I said to this faithful 
old servant, “and I will manage my shop. Every 
one knows his own business best. If I took the lib- 


40 


SELF-DOOMED. 


erty of suggesting to you how you should cook that 
plump goose you have in your hand, I should not be 
surprised to feel it flying about my head, dead as it 
is.” 

“ From the first day I came here,” said Anna, and 
there was really a touch of pathos in her voice, ev- 
erything has gone right in my kitchen. Never a joint 
have I spoiled, nor a bird, nor has an ounce of fat or 
a slice of bread been wasted. Out of what has been 
saved by careful management we have even been able 
to feed the beggars. Go down-stairs now, and you 
will see the saucepans, and the pans, and the moulds 
shining like new silver, and if you find a speck of 
dust on a plate or a glass you may cut off my head.” 

It was true, every word of it, and I should have 
melted into tears had it not been for the tragic tone 
in which my good Anna said I might cut off her 
head. 

And why,” she continued, and now her voice be- 
gan to swell, do I tell you this ? To praise myself 
— to make you think I am a miracle of a woman ? 
No, Master Fink, you know better than that. I am 
no miracle ; only an ordinary creature, who is con- 
tented when things go on in a quiet and honest fash- 
ion. It is to prove to you how easy it is for one pair 
of hands to do a thing well, and for another pair to 
make everything go wrong. Had / taken an appren- 
tice, some wench who thought more of her own stom- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


41 


ach than her master’s, your meat would have been 
undone or done to rags, and your favorite dishes 
burned to a cinder. But I would have no apprentice ; 
the work I had to do was done, and that was enough 
for me. I was not going to bring confusion upon 
the house. And your shop, before you took Gideon 
Wolf into it, was like my kitchen, a model. You got 
up in the morning, you had your meals in peace, you 
did with your own one pair of hands every bit of 
work there was to do, you were putting by money, 
and this house was a house of truth and honesty. No 
lies to disturb us then, Master Fink ; no deceit, no 
treachery, no unholy work — ” 

Stop, Anna,” I exclaimed, for Heaven’s sake, 
stop ! Everything you have said is true, except tho 
last. Whatever else takes place in the house, there is 
no unholy work going on in it.” 

“ I tell you. Master Fink,” said Anna, and her voice 
became so solemn that I felt the hair rising on my 
head, “ that there is unholy work being carried on in 
your house. The Evil One visits it regularly !” 

I stared at her with my mouth wide open. Had 
the most savory morsel been popped into it at that 
moment I should not have been able to move my 
jaws ; there it would have- remained, uneaten. 

“ Explain to me what you mean,” I managed to 
murmur. 

Explain to she retorted, what Gideon Wolf 


42 


SELF-DOOMED. 


means, by getting up in the middle of the night to 
play cards with the Devil !” 

You may imagine my astonishment; you might 
have thrown me from my chair to the ground with 
your little finger. “ Playing cards in the middle of 
the night with the Devil !” I gasped. 

‘"Yes, Master Fink, with the Devil. Doesn’t Gid- 
eon Wolf sleep in the next room to mine, and isn’t 
there a hole in the wall behind the curtains of my 
bed, into which I have stuffed a piece of soft rag, 
and tied it with a string to my pillow, so that it can’t 
be taken out on the other side without disturbing 
me? Well,' then. The first time I saw anything of 
Gideon Wolf’s unholy work was six months ago, 
when, waking up in the middle of the night, I heard 
him talking to Some One in his room. My room was 
dark — I have nothing on my conscience, and can 
sleep without a light — but in his the candle was burn- 
ing, as I saw when I quietly took the rag out of the 
hole and peeped through. There was no harm in my 
doing it — I am old enough to be his grandmother. I 
knew that, lawfully, there should be only you, me, 
and Gideon in the house. You were asleep down- 
stairs. Who could it be, then, that Gideon Wolf was 
talking to ? It was my duty to see, and I am thank- 
ful that I am not a coward. Gideon was sitting in 
his shirt-sleeves at his little table ; his back was to- 
wards me, and, as I have told you, there was a can- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


43 


die alight. He was shuffling and dealing out a pack 
of cards, talking all the time in a voice you never 
heard, Master Fink, all the years he has been with 
you. It was not a natural voice ; the bad passions 
expressed in it made me shudder. He dealt cards to 
himself and to Whoever it was that sat opposite to 
him. I did not see the Being he was playing with, 
but it could be nobody but Satan, who has the power 
of making himself invisible to any person he pleases 
— and he didn’t choose to show himself to me. But 
Gideon saw him clearly enough, for he spoke to the 
Fiend, and shook his fist at him, and swore at him, 
and when he was winning, grinned in his face — a 
diabolical grin, such as I never saw on the face of a 
proper man. Now and then I thought I heard a 
faint, wicked laugh from the Fiend, but I could not 
make sure of it. Gideon kept an account of some- 
thing — of his winnings and losings, I suppose — on 
pieces of paper, upon which he wrote figures at the 
end of every game. ‘ That makes five hundred,’ Gid- 
eon said ; ‘ that makes a thousand ; that makes fifteen 
hundred ; that makes two tliousand. Where am I to 
get the money from ? How am I to pay you ?’ I 
knew how he would have to pay ; it was his soul that 
was being gambled away. It was when Gideon was 
speaking in that way that I thought I heard the laugh- 
ing of the Fiend. This went on for nearly an hour, 
I should say, and then Gideon Wolf, dashing the 


SELF-DOOMED. 


U 

pack of cards against the wall, rose from the table 
with a face as white as my table-cloths. Something 
seemed to vanish out of the room, and Gideon, after 
muttering to himself for a minute or two, burned all 
the little pieces of paper at the candle, and gathering 
the ashes put them in the stove. Having done this 
with great care, he collected the pack of cards, blew 
out the candle, and went to bed. The next morning 
when I went to his room I looked into his stove, and 
there I saw the burned ashes of the pieces of paper, 
and 1 knew 1 had not been dreaming.” 

“ But, Anna,” I said, why have you not told me 
this before ?” 

Because,” she replied, you make a scoff of sacred 
things — for which I am afraid you will be punished 
unless I pray you off ; and I try hard to — yes, Master 
Fink, I pray for you every day of my life.” 

^‘You do me a great wrong,” I said; ‘‘never in 
my life have I scoffed at sacred things.” 

“You don’t believe in the Devil,” she said, shaking 
her head dolefully. 

“ Hot in the way you do, Anna. But it would be 
foolish for us to discuss religious matters. When you 
find me doing an evil action, then will be the time to 
pray for me. Did you ever see Gideon play cards 
again in that way ?” 

“ A dozen times at least. Sometimes he wins, some- 
times he loses. When he wins there is an unholy 


SELF-DOOMED. 


45 


light in his eyes ; when he loses he curses and swears 
and walks up and down the room, clinching his fists 
and waving them in the air. But if I had not seen 
what I have seen it would not alter my opinion of 
him. If he were an honest man — which he is not; 
and a handsome man — which he is not; and if he 
didn’t play cards with the Devil — even then he is 
no fit lover for an innocent girl like Katrine Loebeg. 
And so I shall tell her, whether she likes it or not.” 

‘^Do so,” I said, “and I will also speak to her.” 

“It is your duty. Master Fink. You knew her 
father, and respected him. If he were alive this day 
he would take that comrade of the Evil One by the 
neck between his finger and thumb and send him 
spinning into the gutter. If I were a man I’d do it 
myself. You seem to know very little of this Gideon 
Wolf of yours. I’ll tell you something else concern- 
ing him. Who do you think he goes to see every 
Friday night, as regularly as clock-work?” 

“ I cannot guess.” 

“ Pretzel the miser, who lives in the Temple — 
Pretzel, your enemy with the evil eye, who hasn’t a 
friend in the world but Gideon Wolf — Pretzel, that 
the little children run away from when he shows his 
ugly face, and that the very dogs in the streets snarl 
and bark at ! Now I’ve given you a good stomach 
full, Master Fink, and I wish you joy of your ap- 
prentice.” 


46 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Anna was very nnjust to me, but I ascribed it to 
her excited feelings. She made amends to me that 
very night, by placing before me for supper the goose 
she had bought for the next day’s dinner. Ah, if 
women only knew the effect of such a thing upon a 
man’s spirits ! The very smell was enough to dispel 
anger and vexation. If a young girl were to come 
to me for counsel before she was married, if she were 
to ask me how she could chain her husband to her, 
how she could make him love her all the days of his 
life, I sliould say to her, “Look after his stomach, my 
child. Make him nice stews and savory dishes. 
When he cuts into the beef with the knife you have 
sharpened for him, let him behold the gravy running 
out of it. It softens the heart. And when you give 
him a roast goose, be sure that you give him plenty 
of stuflSng with it.” But no one could roast a goose 
like old Anna. No one, no one ! Upon her tomb- 
stone ought to have been cut the words, “ Here lieth 
a woman who could roast a goose to perfection, and 
who made the finest stews in the world.” 

When Anna placed that goose before me I gave 
utterance to a long, deep sigh of satisfaction, and I 
looked at her with a smile in my eyes. Her face 
lighted up in an instant. You should have seen it; 
it was like the sun breaking out. Did I not know in 
my inmost soul that she had been suffering because 
she believed she had done me an injustice? And in 


SELF-DOOMED. 


47 


an instant everything was cleared up through the 
savory steam — more eloquent than the finest words 
— that rose from the hot roast goose. 

But there is never joy without sorrow. Gideon 
Wolf came into the room just as I put the knife into 
the breast. 

A hot roast goose !” he cried, gleefully. If I 
like one thing better than another it is a hot roast 
goose for supper.” 

And he drew his chair close to the table, and held 
out a plate. 

I could not take my knife out of the breast, the 
fattest slices of which I intended for my own eating, 
and help him to the long joint of the leg. Sadly I 
laid the fat slices on his plate, and when he said, 
“ Don’t trouble about the stuffing, Master Fink ; I’ll 
help myself I submitted without a word, but in si- 
lent wrath. He devoured the best part of that goose, 
and nearly the whole of the stuffing. What could 
be expected of such a gourmand ? As for Anna, she 
went out of the room in such a state of vexation that 
I am sure she could not have got a wink of sleep 


48 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER YL 

PRETZEL THE MISER, WITH THE EVIL EYE. 

Of Anna’s revelations, those which troubled me 
most were that relating to Pretzel the miser, and 
that relating to Katrine Loebeg. Of the intimacy 
which she had discovered, by means of a hole in the 
wall, between the Devil and Gideon Wolf I soon dis- 
posed. The world abounds in men who feed on de- 
lusions, and who find their greatest comfort therein. 
The majority of these men are beings who hunger 
after what is not within their reach, or who are en- 
vious of their neighbors. Gideon Wolf, hungering 
for M'ealth, and seeing no practical road to its swift 
attainment, flew to his imagination for the realization 
of his desire. He played cards in the solitude of his 
room with a Shadow, and won of it or lost to it great 
sums of money. There is a certain distinction, and 
also a certain comfort, in this delusion. Imaginary 
millions are involved in the turning up of a card, and 
the high play affords a triumph when a fortune is won, 
and a scarcely less enjoyable despair when it is lost. 
So much for Gideon Wolf’s folly in playing cards 
with the Devil. That I di(J not believe in the per- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


49 


sonality of the Evil One was, in my old Anna’s eyes, 
a terrible sin. She herself had the firmest belief that 
he walked the earth, a solid body, horns, hoofs, tail, 
and all complete. No, the Devil did not trouble me, 
but Pretzel the miser did. 

This Pretzel was, in my opinion, the most abomina- 
ble man in the town. He was a miser, and a money- 
lender at exorbitant interest. One hundred, two 
hundred, even four hundred per cent., did not satisfy 
him; he was never satisfied till he had extracted the 
last copper from the unhappy people who went to 
him for assistance. A little, thin, dried-up old man, 
with a joyless laugh. Out of his whole body I do 
not believe you could have squeezed a teaspoonful of 
blood. The number of people he had ruined ! I 
could not count them. And all done under the 
shadow of the law. Yes, he was always, always 
right, and his victims always, always wrong. The 
judges and the lawyers all declared so— not because 
they wished to favor him, but because they were com- 
pelled to go by the letter of the law. I want noth- 
ing more than my rights,” he would say; ^^ook at 
my bond.” And there was never a fiaw in it, nev- 
er the smallest crevice that a poor wretch could creep 
through to escape from his clutches. Ah, gracious 
Heaven ! A heartless money-lender’s bond. That it 
is necessary he should be upheld in it — that he should 
be allowed to piey, to blast, to ruin, to destroy ! Is 
4 


50 


SELF-DOOMED. 


there no such thing as moral justice in this strangely 
constituted world ? Public opinion. Yes, yes. But 
what do men like Pretzel care for public opinion? 
Could they not, if they pleased, buy up all the corn 
and the oil? If I had a son, never, never should he 
become a money-lender! I would sooner see him 
dead at my feet. “Look at my bond,” says the 
money-lender; “ask my debtor if he denies his sig- 
nature.” “Take what you demand,” says the judge. 
And helpless women and children stand by, wringing 
their hands and weeping tears of blood. The mon- 
ey-lender sees not, hears not. He takes what he de- 
mands, and when the Sabbath comes he kneels in 
church, and prays and humbles himself. It is a 
cheap way of buying himself off. Though if the 
truth were known, and if the workings of a man’s 
soul could be brought into view, the heart and the 
mind of the ruthless schemer would be seen to be 
full of triumphant figures all the time his lips are 
moving with meaningless prayer. 

Not that Pretzel ever went to church, or ever 
prayed, or ever knelt to any God but Money. No, 
no: there was no mock humility about Pretzel. He 
gloried in his deeds, and when ruin overtook those 
unfortunate ones who had been drawn into his web, 
he would heap reproaches upon them for their nn- 
worldliness and their want of prudence. It was they 
who were the wrongers, not he. “ See what you have 


SELF-DOOMm 


51 


done,” he would say; “see what you have brought 
upon your poor families!” Can a more fiendish 
taunt be imagined ? 

Of every person, with one single exception, with 
whom Pretzel had dealings he got the advantage. 
That exception was myself. No one but I, in all the 
town, who had borrowed money of him, could say, “I 
have gained something from dealing with Pretzel.” 
To hear that, and to be compelled to acknowledge 
that it was true, cut him to the soul. You may guess 
how he hated me. 

It happened in this way: Old Pretzel did not 
always wait for customers; if they did not come to 
him he went to them ; he made business, I have heard 
him say. It was not always, “I beg, I implore of 
you, good Pretzel, to lend me a hundred fiorins ; it 
will save me from ruin. For the sake of my wife 
and children do this good deed!” It was he who 
sometimes said, “Why don’t you borrow two hun- 
dred, three hundred, five hundred florins of me ? It 
will help you on. You can buy fresh stock with it, 
and turn it twice over before I come to you for pay- 
ment. You will grow rich, instead of being poor all 
your life. I would not do this for every one, but I 
take an interest in you. Think of it, for the sake of 
your wife and children. Think well of it; the mon- 
ey is ready for you, and it won’t run away.” He 
would cast his eyes upon a tradesman who was get- 


52 


SELF-DOOMED. 


ting along comfortably, and when he had calculated 
how much he was worth, he would go to him and 
tempt him to borrow, putting all sorts of baits in his 
way. And he did it so cleverly that the victim 
could scarcely ever remember how the whole thing 
was done, and how it happened that ruin suddenly 
fell upon him like a clap of thunder. 

Pretzel came to me — it was in the first year of 
Gideon Wolf’s apprenticeship; that is how those 
two became acquainted, by Pretzel visiting my shop. 
Pretzel’s words, when they were uttered in the pres- 
ence of Gideon Wolf, fell upon a rich soil. Well, 
he came to me many times, admired my workman- 
ship, admired my stock — I believe he knew to the 
smallest coin what it would fetch in the market — 
and would say, 

‘^You ought to have a fine plate-glass window to 
your shop. It would draw custom. A fine plate- 
glass front, with glass shelves in it, and your beau- 
tiful watches and chains all set out in blue velvet 
cases. How they would glitter! It would make 
people’s mouths water. Everybody in the town 
would come to look, and a great many would be 
tempted to buy. You would do three times the 
trade you are doing now. You would be able to buy 
the newest-fashioned goods ; you would grow rich.” 

But it would cost a great deal of money,” I would 
answer, “ to make these alteivations.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


58 


“What does it matter,” he would urge, “how much 
it would cost if you got it back five times, ten times 
over ?” 

“ But I haven’t any spare cash, Pretzel ; all tliat 
I arn worth lies in my stock. True, I do not owe 
anything; what I have is all my own.” 

“ Keally, Master Fink, you don’t owe anybody any- 
thing — that is an absolute fact, eh ?” 

“ It is an absolute fact. Pretzel.” 

Then he would laugh slyly, and say, “ An honor- 
able, straightforward man like you could easily bor- 
row what he wants. Ah, how people would stare ! 
They would clap their hands, and say, ‘What a won- 
derful man Master Fink is — what a wonderful, won- 
derful man !’ You would be looked up to, much 
more than you are now, thougli you stand well. 
Yes, Master Fink, such is the power of money that 
you would be made a magistrate.” 

I thought, “ Ah, if I were a magistrate, and you 
were brought before me, I would make short work 
of you. Miser Pretzel.” And I wondered to myself 
why he was so anxious to lend money to me who 
had always spoken of him as a villanous usurer. 

Day after day, week after week, he continued to 
pester me and try to inflame my ambition with his 
cunning speech, until it entered my head to set a 
trap for him. I told him, much as I should like to 
take his advice, that it was not in my power, because, 


54 


SELF-DOOMED. 


in an unlucky moment of my life, I had vowed 
never to borrow money at interest. He opened his 
eyes very wide at this ; I don’t suppose he ever had 
snch a thing said to him before. He tried to reason 
me out of my vow, but I said it was of no use, and 
that nothing should ever tempt me to break it. 

Have you ever known me to forfeit my word 
I asked. ‘‘ Is it likely, then, that I should break a 
solemn oath ? I admit that it was foolish, that I am 
bound by it.” 

He did not annoy me for a little while after this, 
but more than once I saw him looking in at my shop- 
window, counting with his eyes the watches and 
cliains and trinkets therein displayed. Ha, ha! He 
was going to walk straight into the trap. All this 
time I did not hold my tongue concerning him ; I 
spoke of him freely to the neighbors as an abomina- 
ble usurer, hoping that what I said would reach his 
ears. Whether it did or not he exhibited no ill-will 
towards me, but nodded and smiled in a friendly 
way when we met. And one morning he entered 
my shop, and said, 

“Master Fink, I will do you a service against your 
will. I will compel you to become a rich man ; you 
shall make great profits ; you shall rise in the town ; 
we want men like you to take the direction of affairs. 
You shall borrow of me the money needed for alter- 
ations and improvements, and I will charge you no 


SELF-DOOMED. 


55 


interest — only, of course, you shall sign a bond to pay 
me on a stated day. That is but fair.” 

“Indeed, indeed, I do not care for it,” I said. 
“Am I not already sufficiently well off?” 

“ No, you are not,” he persisted. “ I will do you 
this kindness, so that people shall say, ^ Pretzel is a 
good fellow ; we have been mistaken in him.’ Oh, 
I know wliat some of them think of me !” 

“ The devil is never so black as he is painted,” I 
said, saucily. 

“ Ah, Master Fink,” he said, without a trace of 
displeasure in his face, “you will have your joke, 
you will have your joke.” 

“ Yes,” said I to myself, “ and I intend to enjoy it, 
and profit by it.” 

But although he urged and urged, I would not 
immediately do as he wished; I drew him on, and 
within a week, so eager was he to have his fingers in 
my pie, he had lent me three thousand florins for 
two years, without interest. He plumped the money 
on my counter, and I signed a bond, undertaking to 
repay it in hard coin on a certain date, and giving 
Pretzel the power, in case it were not refunded to 
the minute, to seize my goods and furniture, and sell 
me up stock and block. In the bond Pretzel had 
inserted words to the effect that the money was to 
be handed to him at exactly twelve o’clock in the 
morning by his own watch. 


56 


SELF-DOOMED. 


he said, with a little chuekling laugh, 
you are a minute later than twelve o'clock by 
my watch I shall take possession of all your goods.’’ 

Yes, yes,” I said, I understand. At twelve 
o’clock on that day you shall receive the money you 
are kind enough to lend me without interest.” 

His evil eye never had a slyer, wickeder look in it 
than when he shook hands with me and wished me 
good-luck and good-day, leaving his three thousand 
florins behind him. With his money tied up in a 
bag I went immediately to the State Bank and de- 
posited it upon interest, and there I let it remain, 
without Pretzel or any person outside the bank 
knowing anything of the transaction. From time to 
time Pretzel looked in, and asked when my plate 
glass and my new-fashioned goods were to arrive. 
I put off his questions with an awkwardness whicli 
I intended he should notice. He did notice it, and 
after some time had passed he said, 

“ The new watches and chains are a long time 
coming; I am quite anxious to see them. Re- 
member, I lent you the money to purchase them 
with.” 

“Ho,” I said, and I pretended to be much con- 
fused, “ you did not lend me the money to purchase 
them with; you simply lent me the money. That is 
stated in the bond, and it is not stated in what man- 
ner I should employ what I borrowed of you. A 


SELF-DOOMED. 


57 


good speculation offered itself to me, and I have in- 
vested in it.” 

Master Fink,” he said, severely, it was under- 
stood, if the money was spent, that it should be 
spent in purchasing new stock, so that you might in- 
crease your trade.” 

“ I cannot deny it,” I answered, “ but it was only 
understood ; it was not written down.” 

“ You stand by the bond ?” 

“ To the letter.” 

“ That is well, as far as it goes ; but a speculation 
carries risk with it. How if yours should turn out bad ?” 

I made a gesture of despair, clasped my hand to 
my forehead, and said, dolefully, 

“ I should be ruined ! Yet, no ; you are my friend ; 
you would never take my goods from me ; you would 
give me time to repair my losses.” 

His eyes travelled round my shop; there was a 
malicious expression in his weazen face. 

‘^The devil is never so black as he is painted, is 
he. Master Fink?” he said, with a wicked grin. 

Thereafter he would ask me, whenever he saw me, 
“ And how is the famous speculation getting on, eh ?” 

“Don’t ask me, don’t ask me,” I would sigh. 
“How fortunate for me that I am in the hands of a 
man like yourself — in the hands of a friend ! Never 
have I beheld your money since the day on which 
you lent it to me.” 


58 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Which was as true as aDythirig I ever spoke in my 
life. His money did not trouble me; it was safe 
enough in the State Bank. 

So the first year passed, and six months of the 
second, Pretzel never ceasing to question me about 
my famous speculation, and I never ceasing to ex- 
press my despair. During the last few months he 
was in the habit of coming to me with his watch in 
his hand, and saying. 

Master Fink, I wish you to regulate my watch.” 

And I regulated it for him, on an average, once in 
every week. 

On the day before the money was to be repaid I 
went to the bank, and drew it out in hard coin, and 
received, also, the interest — with which interest I 
purchased, as I had previously determined, the hand- 
some lever -watch I have ever since worn, and the 
Iiandsome gold chain yon see round my neck. 

The morning arrived. I had a friend to breakfast 
with me, who was to witness what was about to take 
place. Suspecting some trick, and wishing to be pre- 
pared for it, I had arranged that this friend was to 
come to me at seven o’clock in the morning, and to 
stay till the affair was over. I expected that Pretzel 
would present himself at about a quarter to twelve, 
but to my astonishment he entered my shop as half 
a dozen clocks on my shelves chimed a quarter to ten. 
He was accompanied by a lawyer. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


59 


‘‘Good-morning, Master Fink,” he said. 

“ Good-morning,” I said. 

Heavens! How cunning and sharp and sly and 
malicious was his look ! 

“You know what to-day is?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I replied, “it is Wednesday.” 

“Eight; it is Wednesday; and the date, Master 
Fink, the date is that on which you are to repay me 
my three thousand florins.” 

“ Ah,” I cried, “ it is true, it is true ! How could 
it have escaped me ?” 

“ That is not my affair. This is my lawyer, Mas- 
ter Fink.” 

I bowled to the lawyer, and said to Pretzel, 

“You will renew the bond, will you not? You 
will let the money remain with me for another two 
years, at the same rate of interest ?” 

“ What 1” he cried ; “ are you mad, or do you think 
lam?” 

“No,” I said, in a rueful tone, “ I am not mad, but 
you see the state I am in. Unfortunate — unfortunate 
that I am !” 

“ That is always the way,” he said, appealing to 
his lawyer — “ that is always the way.” Then to me, 
“Is not my demand just?” 

“Quite just; but you will continue to be my 
friend — you will not ruin me!” 

He laughed in my face. “Master Fink,” he said, 


60 


SELF-DOOMED. 


attend to me. Years before I lent you this money 
yon were in the habit of reviling me and speaking 
against me. Y^ou libelled and scandalized me; yon 
held me up in tlie blackest light. You were never 
tii-ed of calling me a villanous old usurer.” 

“ It is true,” I groaned, “ but I have lived to see 
my error. You are upright, you are just, you are 
liberal.” 

I lent you my money,” he continued, “ without 
interest, to prove to you and to everybody that when 
you spoke in that way against me you were speaking 
lies, and that really I am a benevolent man.” There 
was something absolutely diabolical in his voice as he 
uttered these words. And even then, when I gave 
you the money, to my own loss — for how much more 
profitably it could have been employed ! — you threw 
into my teeth the taunt that the devil is never so 
black as he is painted.” (I groaned again.) If you 
have been improvident that is your affair. If you 
have squandered my money and lost it recklessly, 
you will be spoken of as a knave, and you will for- 
feit the honorable name you have been so proud of.” 
(I gave two long distinct groans.) ^^I have come 
now for my money, and if you are not prepared to 
pay me three thousand honest florins, I will strip 
your house and your shop of every article they con- 
tain.” 

“ No, no. Pretzel,” I moaned, you do not mean it !” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


61 


do mean it ! You shall not have a bed to lie 
upon, nor a spoon to eat with. You will be a beggai-, 
a rogue, a cheat ! Ask this lawyer whether I am 
standing on my rights.” 

I looked at the lawyer. 

By the bond you have signed,” he said, which 
Pretzel holds in his hands, if you do not pay him 
three thousand florins he is entitled to carry away 
everything movable within these walls.” 

^^And 1 will do it !” screamed Pretzel, working 
himself up into a state of frantic exultation ; “ I will 
do it! I can see that you have not got the money — 
that you are not prepared to pay it — that you have 
squandered it like a thief 1 You shall suffer for call- 
ing me a villanous old usurer; you shall suffer for 
saying that I am not so black as I am painted ! Do 
you see those vans at the door? They -are mine — 
they are mine — and Pll strip the place to the bare 
walls, you honest, honorable man 1” 

Sure enough, there at my door stood two large, 
strong vans, and I strove to squeeze out a few tears 
at my impending ruin as Pretzel pointed to them 
and flourished the bond in my face. 

“ Are you quite determined to show me no mercy?” 
I asked, with a succession of such heavy sighs that I 
thought to myself if I had not been a watch-maker I 
might have been a flue actor. 

“ Hear him 1” he cried ; he implores mercy from 


SELF-DOOMED. 


a villanous old usurer ! Why, he must be a fool as 
well as a rogue !” 

Well, then,” I said, and I threw myself, quite 
heart-broken, into a chair, come at twelve o’clock, 
when the money is due, and in the mean time I will 
see if I can get my friends to help me.” 
is twelve o’clock now,” said Pretzel. 

^^Nay,” I replied, looking round at my clocks, 
which were ticking merrily away, “ it wants exactly 
two hours to noon. The correct time is five minutes 
to ten.” 

‘‘ By my watch,” said Pretzel, pulling it out of his 
pocket, it is exactly five minutes to twelve.” 

I looked at his watch; the hands pointed to five 
minutes to twelve ; there was no disputing it. 

‘^Your watch is wrong,” I said; is two hours 
fast.” 

I say nothing to that,” said Pretzel, eagerly watch- 
ing the second hands, “you yourself have regulated it 
for several months past.” 

“Twenty-two times I have regulated it,” I said, 
“ and yesterday it was in perfect order.” 

“One minute gone,” said Pretzel; “four minutes 
to twelve. I demand my money, my three thousand 
florins !” 

“ Your watch is tw^o hours fast ; how it came so 
Heaven only knows. You cannot demand your money 
till twelve o’clock by the right time.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


63 


You are wrong. The bond says twelve o’clock 
by my watch. It does not stipulate that my watch 
shall keep right time. Eead the words for yourself. 
You stand by the bond, you know, to the letter — the 
exact words you spoke to me. Another minute gone ; 
three minutes to twelve. I demand my money, my 
tliree thousand florins !” 

‘‘But, Pretzel,” I implored, “you cannot mean it. 
You will surely not cast me into the streets — you will 
not make a beggar of me !” 

“Oh no,” he cried, “I will not make a beggar of 
you — I will not cast you into the streets ! I have so 
much reason to love you, have I not ? As for your 
ruin, you have brought it on yourself. This is your 
signature, not mine. It is your honesty that is at 
stake, not mine. The villanous old usurer, the devil 
that is not so black as he is painted, wants only his 
rights — nothing more. Two minutes to twelve ; an- 
other minute gone. I demand my money, my three 
thousand florins !” 

“ Bring me writing materials,” I said to my friend, 
in a despairing tone, “ and I will write Miser Pretzel 
an order on the bank for three thousand florins.” 

“ I will accept no order on the bank,” said, Pretzel, 
“ for two reasons. One is, because I should And it 
was not worth the paper it was written on ; and the 
other, because it is stated in the bond that the money 
is to be repaid to me in hard coin.” 


64 


SELF-DOOMED. 


You insist upon it. Pretzel 
Yes, I insist upon it. Another minute gone; one 
minute to twelve.” 

I tapped him gently on his breast, within which I 
verily believe beat the cunningest heart that mortal 
was ever cursed with; I made him a low bow; I 
smiled benignly ; and saying, “ What must be, must 
be,” I took from a drawer the bag with the three 
thousand florins in it, and put it into his hands. 
“ There is your money,” I said, “ the exact sum, in 
hard coin, which I drew from the State Bank yester- 
day. Give me my bond, that I may cancel it.” 

He turned white, then yellow, then green ; he trem- 
bled with rage ; he gasped for breath. 

‘^ You forced your money upon me,” I said, “as 
you have forced it upon others. You would have 
ruined me, as you have ruined others. I have made 
you pay for it. Out of a spirit of revenge you laid 
a snare for me, and thought to entangle me in it; 
and now you And yourself caught in your own trap. 
Instead of biting, you are bit. I put your money into 
the State Bank, at fair interevSt; I knew it was quite 
safe there. I never touched it, never used a florin of 
it, and with the interest I received yesterday I bought 
this handsome chain and this handsome lever watcli, 
which I shall wear as long as I live, to remind me al- 
ways that honesty is the best policy. Never, never 
shall it be set two hours fast or two hours slow to 


SELF-DOOMED. " 


65 


entrap the innocent and unsuspecting. Count the 
money, Pretzel, count the money; you will find it 
right to a florin ; and you can carry it away in those 
beautiful strong vans you have gone to the expense 
of hiring for my benefit.” 

Shaking as if he had an ague. Pretzel counted the 
money and flung the bond at my feet. 

“ You do not require me any longer,” said the law- 
yer to him, with an ill-concealed smile. I saw that 
he enjoyed the joke, and that very soon the whole 
town would be laughing at the capital trick Master 
Fink had played upon Miser Pretzel. 

“Wait a moment, please,” I said to the lawyer; 
“ it is not yet quite finished. In your presence I pre- 
sent Pretzel the money-lender with a small account 
he owes me, and I request immediate payment of the 
same.” 

“Account !” snarled Pretzel ; “ I owe you nothing.” 

“Pardon me. Here is the account, with the items 
fairly and properly set down. Twenty- two times have 
I regulated your watch for yon, at your own request. 
Why you wanted it so often examined and set in or- 
der when nothing was the matter with it was your 
affair, not mine; I sit at my counter to attend to my 
customers. I charge you one florin a time — in all, 
twenty-two florins.” 

“ You are an extortionist,” he said ; and if he could 
have scorched me to death with his evil eye it would 
5 


66 


SELF-DOOMED. 


have afforded him, I have no doubt, the greatest sat- 
isfaction ; I shall not pay you a florin of this false 
account.’’ 

“ It is a faithful account,” I said, “ and if it is not 
paid before twelve o’clock to-morrow — by my watch, 
not yours — I shall have you summoned in the Pub- 
lic Court. You may take my word that I mean what 
I say. Good-morning.” 

“ Master Fink,” he said, with the look of a snake, 
one day I may be even with you.” 

^‘Till then,” I said, “farewell.” 

From that hour we Iiad never exchanged a single 
word. He prospered, and was feared and hated, and 
well did I know that if the opportunity ever offered 
itself he would deal me a deadly blow. 

And this was the man with whom Gideon Wolf 
was consorting. Nothing but evil could come of such 
a friendship. But it was of no use my interfering be- 
tween those two rascals ; I should have been laughed 
to scorn by the pair of them. 

It was otherwise with Katrine Loebeg. I had been 
kind to her; when she was a little one I had walked 
in the flelds with her, and we had been merry to- 
gether. I could speak to her as a father would to 
liis child ; I could warn her ; I could enlighten her as 
to Gideon Wolf’s true character. Ah! I did not 
think of the glamour which love sheds over the eyes 
of the young — not only over the eyes, over the rea- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


67 


son, over tlie judgment. Had I reflected a little, had 
I recalled the memory of the past, when I myself was 
in love, I might have taken a different view. 

I met Katrine tlie very next evening in the public 
street. I spoke to her, cautiously and tenderly. She 
was a timid, confiding girl, with a gentle voice, but 
the moment I ventured to say one word against Gid- 
eon Wolf she turned upon me like a fury. I never 
supposed her capable of such spirit. It was the pas- 
sion of a mother defending her young. Ah, woman, 
woman ! So weak, so strong, so fierce, so tender ! It 
puts me out of patience to think of it. A bundle of 
sticks, some inflexible as steel bars, some supple as 
blades of grass — that well represents the qualities of 
lier nature. What can be said of a man who, with 
some knowledge of the world, deliberately uses these 
astonishing, these beautiful contrasts to his own base 
ends ? I have my own opinion on such matters. Per- 
haps I am old-fashioned. If so, thank God for old 
fashions ! May tliey never entirely die out ! 

“What do you mean,” cried Katrine, “first Anna, 
then you, by coming to me, and speaking against 
Gideon?” 

“ Anna has spoken to you, then,” I said. 

“ Yes, she has,” said Katrine, “ and said such things 
of Gideon as she ought to be ashamed of. She de- 
serves to be punished for it, and so I told her. I am 
not good enough for him, not half gopd enough. Is 


68 


SELF-DOOMED. 


he not already sufficiently persecuted, sufficiently un- 
fortunate? But if all the world rose against him, I 
would stand by his side, if he would let me, and die 
for him ! Yes, gladly would I die for him !” 

Fool that I was! Not to know that if you want 
to increase a woman’s love for a man, all you have 
to do is to speak to her against him ! I soon dis- 
covered my error, and was compelled to confess to 
myself that I had done Gideon Wolf a good turn in 
his suit with Katrine Loebeg. So may a man him- 
self, by an act which he has not well considered, frus- 
trate his own good intentions. 

What thrilled me through and through was to see 
Pretzel the Miser, who had been secretly watching 
us, go to Katrine when I left her, and walk side by 
side with her in confidential converse. There came 
to my mind the picture of Eve and the Serpent in 
the Garden of Eden. 

Well, the best service we could now render to Ka- 
trine was to hold our peace. Heaven knows, things 
were bad enough ; to have set the whole town talking 
would have made them worse. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


69 


CHAPTER VII. 

GIDEON WOLF PKOPOSES TO ADOPT MASTER FINK AS 
HIS FATHER. 

On Saturdays, unless there were repairs to be exe- 
cuted which were urgently required to be done, there 
was no work in my sliop after three o’clock During 
the afternoon I generally made up my accounts and 
balanced my books for the week — a task which af- 
forded me satisfaction, for it was seldom I did not 
find myself a trifle richer at the end of the week 
than I had been at the beginning. A business is a 
real pleasure to a man when that is the case. 

Gideon Wolf, the moment the hour began to strike, 
would lay down his tools as though they were red- 
hot, jump from his seat, whisk off his apron, and be 
out of the shop before the clock had done striking. 
You can always tell a good and cheerful workman 
by the manner of his proceedings when the clock 
proclaims that his day’s toil is at an end. 

While I was at my accounts, Gideon would be en- 
joying himself somew^here after his own fashion, and 
I would see nothing more of him till supper-time. 
He was frequently late at his work in the morning. 


70 


SELF-DOOMED. 


but he was the soul of punctuality at his meals. I 
will say that of him. 

On the Saturday after I had spoken to Katrine 
with such ill effect, I was casting up my books as 
usual, and coming to Gideon Wolf’s account found 
him indebted to me to the tune of one hundred and 
eighty florins. “ He will never pay me,” I thought. 
‘^The debt is not even doubtful; it is bad. Well, 
it is a good thing I can afford to lose the money.” 
Just at that moment Gideon himself entered and 
stood before me. Something is in the wind,” 
thought I. ^^If he comes to borrow more money 
he may save himself the trouble of asking. I do not 
give him another florin.” And I went on with my 
addlng-up. 

Master Fink,” said Gideon, I wish to speak to 
you.” 

Yes, Gideon, yes,” I said, drawing a double line 
with my ruler, a thick one and a thin one ; I kept 
my books very neatly, and often turned over the 
leaves with pride. “ What have you to say ?” 

“ I am not getting along well. Master Fink.” 

That is plain,” I said, with my eyes on his ac- 
count. 

“I might go on like this for fifty years,” he con- 
tinued, ‘‘and I should be no better off then than I 
am now.” 

“It really appears so,” I said; “and to be honest 


SELF-DOOMED. ^ 


71 


with you, Gideon, if all the people I had dealings 
with resembled you, I should myself be no better 
off!” 

I said this quite calmly and dispassionately. It is 
hurtful to a man to be forever angry about things he 
cannot alter for the better, be he on the right or the 
wrong side with respect to them. 

‘‘I have served you faithfully. Master Fink. As 
apprentice and workman I have worked for you for 
more than ten years.” 

Yes,” said I, ^Gt is more than ten years since you 
first entered my shop.” And there rose before me 
the vision of his mother, my old sweetheart, as she 
appeared to me ten years ago, to beg me to take her 
son as my apprentice and make an upright man of 
him. Conscientiously had I endeavored to do my 
duty by him, to guide him in the straight path, to 
make him truthful, industrious, honest, and brave. 
As well might I have striven to alter the nature of a 
fox, and to instil into the heart of that treacherous 
animal noble and faithful qualities. Sadly did I 
confess that his mother’s cherished dreams of the 
future could never be realized, and that she would 
one day awake to the bitter reality. 

“Master Fink,” said Gideon, “ the years I have 
worked for you have been wasted. I stand here to- 
day without a fiorin, compelled to do without many 
tilings I desire to possess.” 


72 


SELF-DOOMED. 


“ It is a common calamity,” I remarked ; “ all men 
suffer from it.” 

‘‘ We are sent into the world,” said Gideon, 
gloomily, “ with a common right, the poor as well as 
the rich, to enjoy what there is in it.” 

‘‘ Ah, ah,” thought I, is this young man a mem- 
ber of one of those secret societies I have read of, 
whose aim it is to root up the very foundations of so- 
ciety ?” And I said aloud, “Yes, to enjoy what be- 
longs to us, what we have worked for and honestly 
earned. Proceed, and leave politics out of the ques- 
tion. You say that the ten years you have worked 
for me have been as good as wasted. Have you not 
learned a trade ?” 

“My pockets are empty,” he retorted. “Suppose 
that I wished to settle in life — ” He paused suddenly. 

I took up his words according to my understand- 
ing of them. “ All, then, is ari-anged between you 
and Katrine Loebeg.” 

“ What do you know about her ?” he cried, with a 
dark flush in his face. “ Why do you mix up our 
names ?” 

The rascal ! I could have knocked his head against 
tlie wall ! 

“ Be careful, Gideon, be careful,” I said, half warn- 
ingly, half threateningly ; “ more is known about you 
and Katrine Loebeg tlian you seem to be aware of. 
People are not blind.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


73 


He bit liis lips. “^What there is between Katrine 
and me is our business, and concerns no one but our- 
selves.” 

You are in error. Katrine was born in this 
town, and she is an orphan. She is regarded with 
eyes of affection by many, and I could name worthy 
parents who would gladly receive her as a child of 
their own. See that you deal honestly by her. You 
did not finish what you were about to say. Suppose 
you wished to settle in life — ” 

How should I be able to do so ? If I set up for 
myself as a watch-maker in this place, either you or 
I would have to put up our shutters. There is not 
room enough for two.” 

The world is wide, Gideon.” 

But if I wish to stop here ?” 

Stop here, in Heaven’s name ! Who prevents 
you ?” 

“ I did not expect you would mock me. Master 
Fink;” and from biting his lips he took to biting his 
nails. “ I have a proposition to make to you. Hav- 
ing worked for you so long it is natural I should 
look for some advancement. I will work for you 
for two more years at the present rate, and at the ex- 
piration of that time you shall admit me as a partner 
in your business. You have no son to take care of 
you in your old age. I will be your son ; I will take 
care of you. Then all will be well with us.” 


74 


SELF-DOOMED. 


The murder is out,” I thought. ‘‘ Now I will see 
how far he will go.” 

“In plain words, Gideon,” I said, “you propose to 
adopt me as your father. How can I thank you for 
your generous proposal ! Of course it would have to 
be a settled agreement between us.” 

“ Of course,” he said, eagerly. 

I remained silent for a little while, with my head 
resting on my hand, and I saw, without looking up, 
that his eyes never left my face. “The villain!” I 
thought. “ He thinks the hook is already in my 
gills. I will remain silent just long enough to make 
him believe he has me safe. A tine idea, truly, to 
take this envious, idle knave as my partner. In three 
years I should tind myself penniless, without a roof 
to my head. . If it were not for his mother, whom I 
once loved, I would bid him pack off without anoth- 
er word. I am to allow him to adopt me as his fa- 
ther, am I ? I am to put myself into his charge, for 
all the world as though I needed a keeper! A luna- 
tic, indeed, I should prove myself to be by so doing. 
He must think that mankind were made for him to 
prey upon. Do I not put up with his blunders and 
bad workmanship — ay, and with something worse 
which I have never given utterance to ? Because I 
am silent on the matter, he does not suspect that I 
know him to be a thief, and that I could send him 
to prison for what he has done. But for his mother’s 


SELF-DOOMED. 


75 


sake I will spare him. I will not bring shame and 
disgrace upon the gray hairs of the woman who 
brought into my life its most beautiful dreams, and 
who made the mistake of choosing a vagabond in- 
stead of me. She has suffered enough, and my hand 
shall not be raised against her. Ah, you gambler 
and schemer, Gideon Wolf, I could find it in my 
heart to strike you where you stand !” 

Thus I thought and mused, while Gideon stood 
before me, reckoniug up the chickens I had hatched, 
and calculating how many gold -pieces they would 
sell for. 

Gideon Wolf,” I said, in as gentle a tone as I 
could command, “ your proposal springs from a heart 
beating with consideration for your old master. It 
displays your nature in a beautiful light. But have 
you fully considered the sacrifice you propose to 
make ; have you debated the subject with yourself in 
a calm and serious spirit; are you quite prepared to 
waste two of your most valuable years in my service, 
before you can hope to reap the reward to which you 
believe yourself entitled?” 

“ I have fully considered,” he said, with gracious 
arrogance ; “ I am quite prepared.” 

“ There are so many things,” I said, laughing in- 
wardly, “ that may have escaped one of less experi- 
ence than yourself. In human life so many unfore- 
seen circumstances occur ! 1 am hale and hearty 


76 


SELF-DOOMED. 


and strong; yet unexpectedly the angel of death may 
call me to my account.” 

He held his hand before his eyes, which were as 
dry as a stone. 

Do not speak of such a calamity,” he said, in a 
broken voice; ‘‘it cuts me to the heart. But even 
then you could provide for me. You are alone in 
the world ; you have no family to whom you would 
care to leave your possessions.” 

“ And I might leave them to you !” I cried, in the 
tone of a man upon whom a blessed inspiration had 
fallen. “ I might make a will, constituting you my 
heir ! True, true ; that would be the best way — by 
far the best way.” 

His face glowed with exultation. You are too 
good, my master,” he said, drawing his breath quick- 
ly. “ You think of everything. It would never have 
occurred to me.” 

“ How could such a thing be possible ?” I cried, 
in assumed indignation at the injustice he was doing 
himself. You are the last person who would cal- 
culate upon gaining anything by my death. But still 
consider, Gideon, what you might be throwing away 
by tying j^ourself to me. You have seen but little 
of the world, and you do not know how many lonely 
rich men there are who would gladly throw them- 
selves into your arms if you made them understand 
what you are ready to sacrifice for them.” 


SELF-DOOMED 


77 


Certainly this young man was fool as well as rogue, 
for he accepted every word I spoke as the utterance 
of sincerity. 

‘‘Why waste more time?” he asked, with a com- 
placent glance at that portion of my stock which was 
displayed tb attract customers — among which were 
six fine fat gold lever watches, eighteen-carat hunters ; 
six others, open-faced ^ four lady’s dainty toys, with 
enamelled cases, set with diamonds ; a couple of 
dozen silver watches, with perfect movements ; and 
one marvel of workmanship, which told not only the 
time but the day of the year, the name and date of 
the month, and the changes of the moon. Then 
there was a fine collection of trinkets, chains, and 
rings, brooches, and the like, all paid for with the 
labor of my hands. And Gideon Wolf was standing 
beneath the fruitful vines, with his mouth wide open, 
waiting for the grapes to fall into it. But he was 
not the only fox in the world who met with disap- 
pointment. “Why waste more time?” he asked. “I 
am a man to be trusted, and what I mean I say. 
After all the years I have passed in your house, it 
would be black ingratitude in me to desert you in 
your old age.” 

“Am I so very old, Gideon?” I murmured. 

“You are not young. Master Fink.” 

“But I feel sometimes as if I still had a little 
strength left in me ; I do indeed, Gideon.” 


78 


SELF-DOOMED. 


The strongest are cut down when they least ex- 
pect it,” he said, showing me tlie wliites of his eyes. 

“ There is Anna,” I said ; she has been with me 
a long time, and her heart is full of kindness towards 
me. She would take care of me.” 

^^Of what use are women ?” exclaimed Gideon, 
scornfully. They are mere playthings.” 

I sighed, Alas, for poor Katrine !” and then said. 
You have no cause of complaint against me, Gideon. 
You have been well and justly treated in my house. 
You acknowledge it?” 

‘‘ Yes, Master Fink, I acknowledge it.” 

“ You do not, I am sure, harbor any uncharitable- 
ness towards your old master.” 

“I should despise myself if I did.” 

“Fair wages all the time you were my apprentice, 
Gideon. This home is not to be despised. It is not 
a palace, it is true, but it is better than many palaces. 
The rain does not come through the roof ; and your 
bed — it is a comfortable bed, Gideon ?” 

“ Yes, it is a comfortable bed.” 

“Then Anna is a good cook — one in a thousand. 
You have always had plenty to eat.” 

“I have nothing to complain ^ of. Master Fink, 
nothing whatever. You have been a good and kind 
master, and I am going to show my gratitude. It is 
a bargain — you consent to my proposition. We com- 
mence from this day.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


79 


‘^Nay,” I said, deeming it time to end the comedy; 
“it takes two to make a bargain;” and I rose and 
made him a low bow, just the kind of bow I made to 
Pretzel the Miser a good many years before, when 
he came into my shop, ready to strip me of every 
stick I possessed. “ I will never consent to the sacri- 
fice ; it would be a reproach to me all my life. In^o, 
Gideon, I will not be adopted as your father; I will 
bear my burden alone. You shall grow rich in an 
easier way; you will find it, I make no doubt, for 
you are a sharp customer. Perhaps Miser Pretzel 
will make you his heir.” Gideon’s face, at the men- 
tion of Pretzel’s name, was as white as milk, and I 
was confirmed in a suspicion which had crossed my 
mind, that Pretzel had a hand in counselling him to 
the end he wished to gain. “ He is rolling in money 
— and so very, very generous ! He once tried to do 
me a good turn. Or perhaps the invisible gentleman 
you play cards with in the middle of the night may, 
some time or other, lose a large sum of money to you, 
and bring it to you in a number of sacks. How won- 
derful that would be, would it not ? So let what has 
been spoken between us be forgotten, as though it 
had never happened. And when you are rich,” I 
said, closing the book in wliich his account was en- 
tered, and giving it a little tap, “and riding in your 
carriage, you shall pay me what you owe me, and get 
out of my debt. I hope you will give me your cus- 


80 


SELF-DOOMED. 


tom, as a slight return for the just treatment you 
have received in my house.” 

His face was dreadful to look at. Rage, terror, 
venom, in their most baleful aspects, were expressed 
in the play of his features. Had I been a weak old 
fellow I think he would not have restrained the im- 
pulse to put his fingers round my throat ; but he was 
aware of my strength, and we were botli spared un- 
pleasant consequences. 

“ So,” he said, slowly, you have been playing with 
me ; you have been mocking me ; you have been act- 
ing the part of spy and eavesdropper. You treat me 
as you would treat a dog that you can kick about at 
your pleasure. Because you are rich and I am poor, 
you think you have the right to crush me under your 
feet. Oh, if I had the power ! — ” 

And he ground his teeth, and left me without an- 
other word. 

It was a hard punishment I had dealt out to him, 
but he deserved it. He was a rascal, from the hairs 
of his head to the soles of his feet. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


81 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MASTER FINK RESOLVES TO UNDERTAKE A JOURNEY. 

All that night Gideon Wolf occupied my mind. 
I thought of him and dreamed of him, and when I 
rose in tlie morning it seemed to me that I had a 
duty to perform which it would be a sin to neglect. 
Anna was very much astonished when I told her 
after breakfast, Gideon not being present, that I was 
going a journey on the following day, and should be 
absent for a week. 

How will you be able to live away from home ?” 
she exclaimed. ‘‘ You have never slept a night out 
of the house all the years I have been with you.” 

“ A proof,” said I, “ that I deserve a holiday.” 

‘‘Who will air your sheets for you? Who will 
cook your meals? You will come back as thin as 
the leg of a fly.” 

“ I shall enjoy your cooking all the more when it 
is placed before me again. Do not fear, Anna — I 
shall be able to manage. It is not pleasure that calls 
me away ; it is duty. I shall take only my knapsack 
with me, and I shall leave the place in your charge.” 

“ It will be taken good care of,” she said^ wiping 
6 


82 


SELF-DOOMED. 


her eyes; the foolish creature had been actually shed- 
ding tears at the thought of my leaving her for a 
short time; ‘^only I will not have Gideon Wolf in 
the house while you are absent. I will not cook a 
meal for him — no. Master Fink, not for all the money 
you can offer me ; and I will not sleep in the house 
alone with him.” 

Then,” I said, by no means displeased at the op- 
portunity she offered me, “ I shall tell Gideon that 
he must get lodgings elsewhere. It may be, Anna, 
that he will not remain with us much longer.” 

“I shall dance for joy,” she said, nodding her head 
a great many times, when he goes for good. It is 
not for good that he stays.” 

If Anna was surprised at my resolution, Gideon 
Wolf was filled with consternation upon my telling 
him that there would be no business done in the shop 
for a week. 

What is to become of me?” he cried. 

“ I really cannot tell you,” I replied. It must be 
quite plain to you that there is not much love lost be- 
tween us. Our conversation yesterday was not the 
pleasantest in the world, and you left me in a very 
insolent manner. You said things which I shall not 
easily forget. You are a man, and you must shift 
for yourself in tlie best way you can. I do not pre- 
sume to dictate to you, or to offer you advice.” 

“Master Fink,” he said, cringing, “I am sorry for 


SELF-DOOMED. 


83 


the words I spoke when I left yon yesterday. I will 
beg your pardon if you wish me to.” 

do not wish it. You are humble now because 
you are frightened. It may be, Gideon, when I re- 
turn from my journey, that I may still be disposed to 
act as your friend; I tell you honestly that it depends 
upon circumstances and what happens to me during 
the time I am away.” 

“ Where are you going ?” he asked, with a look of 
keen curiosity. 

“ I shall not tell you ; I am my own master, and 
my movements are free. It remains for me to in- 
form you that you cannot remain in this house dur- 
ing my absence.” 

What ! You turn me out-of-doors !” 

‘‘It can scarcely be regarded in that light,” I said ; 
“you will not be in want of a bed. Anna will be the 
master here, and she will not have you near her. You 
have managed to offend her in some way, and she 
declares she will not cook a meal for you for all the 
money I could offer her.” 

“ She is a cat !” snarled Gideon. ‘ 

“ Well, at all events she has a set of long, sharp 
nails, and I should advise you to be civil to her. 
You remember what I told you yesterday about the 
invisible gentleman you play cards with in the mid- 
dle of the night. Anna has got scent of it, and 
she vows she will not sleep in the house with you 


84 


SELF-DOOMED. 


and that — that strange friend of yours, unless she 
has a man to protect her. You see, Gideon, there 
is no help for it.” 

I have no money to pay for lodgings elsewhere,” 
he said. “Are you going to leave me to starve ?” 

“ No ; here are two watches to clean and regulate ; 
let them be in first-rate going order at the end of the 
week, and I will pay you more than your food and 
lodging will cost you. As for starving at any time, 
are you not an able-bodied man, with a strong pair 
of hands, and a good trade at your fingers’ ends? No 
man who is willing to work need starve in this town.” 

The watches I gave him to repair were of little 
value, and I could easily have replaced them in case 
tliey were not returned to me, so the next morning, 
which was Monday, I affixed to my shutters a notice 
that I was called away on important business, and 
should be absent for a week. Then I shook hands 
with my old Anna, who arranged my knapsack for 
me, and bade her good-bye. She was much affected. 
Had I been her husband or her son she could not 
have exhibited a deeper concern at my departure ; 
her tenderness touched me to the heart. Something 
else worked also upon my feelings. There was an ap- 
petizing fragrance in my knapsack proceeding from 
some delicacy which Anna had cooked for me; I 
could not help smelling it, although my nose was in the 
middle of my face, and not at the back of my head. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


85 


CHAPTER IX. 

RELATES WHAT KIND OF HARVEST MASTER FINK 
GATHERED IN THE COURSE OF HIS JOURNEY. 

The duty I had set myself to perform was to speak 
to Gideon Wolf’s mother concerning his doings. I 
would tell her, gently and kindly, that he needed 
counsel from some one to whom he would listen 
with respect. Who was better able* to enforce this 
advice than the mother who had nursed him at lier 
breast? She should learn all about Pretzel tlie Miser’s 
character, and how that association with a wretch so 
vile could be productive of nothing but evil. I would 
speak to her also about Katrine Loebeg, and beg her 
to save that innocent young girl from shame. More- 
over, I was prepared to advance her a small sum of 
money, with which her son could set up business in 
another town, at some distance from me, where there 
was no watch-maker, and where one could do a fair 
trade. I would lend the money to her, not to Gideon. 
If she repaid me, well ; if not, well. It would not 
ruin me. With industry, and with his mother liv- 
ing with him to attend to his wants and do the house- 
hold work, he might in time get better thoughts in 


86 


SELF-DOOMED. 


his head, and become a respectable member of socie- 
ty. This would I do for my old sweetheart’s sake. 

The direction, therefore, I took was towards the 
village in which I had passed my youthful days and 
dreamed my youthful dreams, the village of which 
Louisa was once the pride and the beauty, and in 
which she still lived, a broken-down woman, old be- 
fore her time, on whom the years had pressed with a 
bitter hand. One friend and another came out of 
their shops and houses to shake hands with me and 
ask questions about my journey, for the knapsack on 
my shoulders excited their curiosity. They all had 
kind and neighborly words for me, and nodded and 
smiled when I told them I was going to take a holi- 
day and do a little business at the same time. Nev- 
er till that day did I know how much I was respected 
by my neighbors, and how sincere was the affection 
they entertained for me. These feelings were mutu- 
al. There are memorials which grow in silence and 
stillness, of the growth of which we are almost un- 
conscious until some action of ours out of the ordi- 
nary groove brings them into view ; and then there 
is suddenly revealed to us a full-bearing tree of love 
or hate. 

One good woman insisted upon my stopping at her 
door. Kunning to the rear of her house and running 
quickly back again, she brought me a beautiful white 
rose, which she stuck in my coat. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


87 


‘‘ Going a-courting, I do believe,” she said, with a 
merry smile. 

“ I am past that long ago,” I replied. 

“ No, indeed,” she said ; “ if you cared to ask, you 
would not be single at the end of the year.” 

Well, then,” I said to her little girl, about six 
years old, who was clinging to her gown, “ will you 
marry me, little maid ?” The child hid her face in 
her mothers dress, and blushed as if she had been 
fifteen. “ There now,” I said, “ what did I tell you ?” 

I stooped and kissed the little maid, and she gave 
me two kisses for my one. 

“ If that answer doesn’t satisfy you,” said the gay- 
hearted mother, “ you are hard to please. Mind ! I 
shall keep you to it !” 

So we parted, blithely. 

Pleasant bits these to meet with by the waysides. 
And the best of it is, even the humblest and poorest 
may earn them if they are so minded. 

The knapsack on my shoulders was the same which 
had accompanied me on my youthful travels, and 
though I had not worn it since that time, it felt like 
an old friend to me. I had determined to walk the 
best part of the way, out of a sentimental desire to 
renew acquaintance with scenes I had not set eyes 
on for five and twenty years. I knew that I should 
be overtaken on the road by carts and wagons on 
which I could get a lift when I was tired. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


There are others besides myself who, in their mid- 
dle or old age, have started upon such an excursion, 
and who have retraced, as it were, the roads of life 
with feelings of pensive sadness and wonder at the 
change that has come over them. I have read of 
countries in which people live at such a rapid rate 
that everything in them is constantly changing its 
condition ; where in a year the roads are so altered 
that you cannot recognize them as the same over 
which you travelled but yesterday ; where dwellings 
are being continually pulled down and built up again ; 
where villages grow into towns, and towns into cities, 
with magical swiftness; where farm-houses disap- 
pear, to make room for mansions; and where the 
people, young and old, are afflicted with such a rest- 
lessness in the soles of their feet that they keep run- 
ning from this spot to that, and from that to this, in 
their eager haste to acquire land and money and 
houses. It is not so with us, and despite the grand 
talk about the march of progress and the advance of 
civilization, I do not believe we are any the worse off 
for it. We move slowly along, and there are not 
many who desert their native place in their youth, 
and pass their manhood in a distant spot. True, I 
had done so, but there was a heart -reason for it. I 
have no doubt, if Louisa had chosen me for her mate, 
I should have been in the old village at this mo- 
ment, surrounded by my children. In the countries of 


SELF-DOOMED. 


which I speak wanderers like myself are deprived of 
a sad and sweet pleasure, such as stole into my heart 
as I passed and recognized old familiar scenes made 
dear to me by the years which had passed since they 
and I last greeted each other. For, indeed, it was 
not only I who greeted them, it was they, also, tliat 
greeted me. The trees, the woods, the farm-houses, 
the vineyards, the wayside inns, the scores of familiar 
landmarks which met my eyes, all seemed to say, 
“Ah, old fellow, here you are once more. We have 
often wondered what had become of you. Where 
have you been hiding yourself all this long while? 
We are glad to see you alive and well. Welcome — 
welcome !” Yes, it is true, they all welcomed me, 
and were rejoiced to see me, and I waved my hands 
and smiled at them, in response to the spiritual greet- 
ing which brought gladness and sadness to my soul. 
A sweet spirit of repose pervaded my being, and even 
in my sadness there was no unhappiness. Here was 
an old windmill, within view of the moving sails of 
which I had rested five-and-twenty years ago, think- 
ing of Louisa Wagner; here the great stone, embed- 
ded in the earth and covered with moss, upon which 
I sat. The sails were revolving now, and the sight 
brought back to me the very thoughts which agitated 
me then. Ah, how I suffered, how I suffered! 
“ Take with you all my hopes,” thus did I muse at 
that long distant time — “ take with you all my hopes, 


90 


SELF-DOOMED. 


and grind them into dust.” And now, as I sat upon 
the ancient, moss -covered stone, the heart’s storm 
was hushed, the tempest of the soul was stilled. I 
breathed a prayer, and was grateful. That is the 
most beautiful time of a man’s life, when he feels at 
peace with himself and the world. So might an 
aged father, after a long and varied life, gaze upon 
his old wife and beautiful children, and say, Thank 
God !” Everything I saw contributed to my enjoy- 
ment. The orchards in which the plums were ripen- 
ing and the apples blushing like young maids, the fir- 
trees bending solemnly above me in the heights, the 
hedges, the hay-ricks, the cattle drinking in the low- 
lands, the ponds in which the ducks were swimming, 
the fowls scratching at the earth, the brooks, the 
streams, the pigeons fiying to their steepled houses, 
the very children who looked at me as I passed — all 
were the same as I had seen in my younger days. 
They had not grown an hour older, not an hour. 
There came a troop of youngsters on their way 
home from school, caps and frocks and boots and 
books, all the same. They followed me, singing an 
evening song, and I rewarded them and made them 
happy. A cow stood with her head over a fence, 
and gazed at me with mild, serious eyes. Two 
young colts, running towards me with side-twist- 
ings of their bodies, suddenly stopped, transfixed. 
And there was the inn at which 1 had rested for the 


SELF-DOOMED. 


91 


night, and the wife of the innkeeper, with a baby in 
her arms. All the same — all the same — young and 
sweet and beautiful as in the days gone by. Ah, 
what a pleasure to me was tliat journey, and what re- 
flections passed through my mind as I thought of 
the more pregnant journey I had taken on the roads 
of life since I had torn myself from my native vil- 
lage ! It is good occasionally to give one’s self up to 
these thoughts. At such times the trouble and vexa- 
tion of our days sink into insignificance, and are of 
less importance than the bird which flies in the air, 
than the leaf which flutters in the wind. At such 
times we learn the truest lessons. 

It was soon over, that excursion of fifty miles, as 
all things are and shall be, for time is but a breath ; 
and on the morning of the third day I entered the 
village in which I was born. 

I made my way at once to the cottage in which 
Louisa had resided with her parents. It was in- 
habited by strangers. Upon inquiry I learned that 
she lived in a hut on the farther outskirts of the vil- 
lage. I recognized no one; no one recognized me. 
I went to my old cottage, the cottage in which my 
father and grandfather and great-grandfather had 
lived, and in which I had soled and heeled Louisa’s 
boots. It was now a little shop in which sweetmeats 
and children’s toys and cakes were sold. I asked 
the woman to allow me to go tlirough the rooms, and 
told her I was born there. 


92 


SELF-DOOMED. 


“ Then you must be Gustave Fink,” she said. 

Yes,” I answered, I am Gustave Fink.” 

It was supposed, I discovered, that I had made a 
great fortune, and that I was rich enough to buy up 
the entire village. This impression was confirmed 
by my purchasing, at a cost of less than half-a-fiorin, 
toys and cakes for all the children who were looking 
at the treasures in the window. But it seemed to 
me, after the first greeting, that the woman gazed 
on me with displeasure, as on a man who had com- 
mitted some grievous wrong. I dismissed the fancy. 
What earthly grounds could there have been for such 
a feeling ? 

From my old house I went to the church, and 
lived over again the Sabbath morning walk I had 
taken with Louisa, in her new cotton dress and the 
bit of new ribbon at her throat. I read the inscrip- 
tions on the tombstones, and was strangely affected. 
Many whom I had known had passed away years 
ago. All these years at peace, with the grass and 
the wild-fiowers growing over them, while all around 
the hearts of men and women were still throbbing 
with wild desires, with unsatisfied yearnings, with 
longings and temptations. Ah, what a lesson, what 
a lesson ! Wait but till to-morrow, when death’s icy 
hand shall stop the beating of the pulses, when the 
great king. Dust, shall claim them for his own ! How 
blind, how blind! If men would but kneel and sin- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


93 


cerely pray, and hold out the kindly hand to their 
fellows ! If they would but learn the lesson aright ! 

The simplest flower teaches it. Behold me, radiant, 
blooming, bright-eyed, perfect in outward form and 
in every hidden vein. It is the summer, and warm 
breezes kiss me, and the life-giving sun shines upon 
me, and I live — I live — I live ! It is the winter, and 
I am dead. Seek me in vain ; I am crumbling into 
dust. 

But the seed remains. 

So shall the seeds of good deeds remain, and blos- 
som into flower. 

The church door was open. I entered, and knelt 
and prayed. 


94 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER X. 

MASTER FINK HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH THE WOMAN 
HE LOVED. 

An hour past noon I stood before Louisa Wolfs 
hovel. It was nothing more; it would have been 
mockery to call it a cottage. 

I looked in at the window ; it was almost bare of 
furniture^ and I recognized that whoever inhabited it 
must liave a hard fight to keep body and soul to- 
gether. And in the room was an old, old woman — 
none other than Louisa Wolf. 

She was but forty -five, but she looked seventy 
when she opened the door to my knock. 

She fell back when she saw me, as though she had 
received a mortal wound. I hurried forward to sup- 
port her, but she thrust me fiercely off, and retreated 
a step or two. I entered without invitation, and sur- 
veyed with wonder and compassion the miserable 
apartment. When, after this melancholy survey, I 
looked at Louisa Wolf, I was astonished to observe 
that a dark frown had settled on her face, and that 
she was regarding me with aversion. I had not long 
to wait before I was enlightened as to tlie cause of 
this unwelcome and unexpected reception. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


95 


What do yon do here?” she muttered. What 
do you do here ?” 

“I have made a long journey,” I said, “especially 
to see you.” 

“How have I deserved so great an honor,” she 
asked, her eyes flashing scorn at me, “ from one so 
powerful and rich ? You have something to say to 
me — of course you have, else why should you have 
troubled yourself to come to me ? Is what you have 
to say about a man or a woman, Gustave Fink ?” 

“ It is about your son Gideon,” I replied. 

“About my dear son Gideon,” she cried; I 
guessed as much, I guessed as much ! It is for evil 
you are here — you are capable of nothing else. Have 
you come to complain of my boy ? Have you come 
to set a mother against her son? Well done, well 
done, Gustave Fink! Have you come to tell me 
that Gideon ought to work twenty hours a day for 
you instead of eighteen, and that he does not pay his 
debt to you quick enough to satisfy your grasping 
soul ? How is it possible, when you starve him, when 
you cheat him, when you rob him of his rest? Is 
that the way to treat the man who has slaved for 
you, who has worked his Angers to the bone for you, 
who has made you rich, and who brings all the cus- 
tom to your shop? You would have been in the 
gutter had it not been for the exertions of my noble 
boy, who found out too late that he was bound to a 


96 


SELF-DOOMED. 


monster without a heart. Did you think I was igno- 
rant of your wicked doings? Evil actions such as 
yours cannot be forever hidden. Go, go, or I shall 
strike you !” 

And indeed she raised her feeble hand to put her 
threat into execution. 

I comprehended instantly the lying and backbit- 
ing that had been going on, and the kind of char- 
acter that villain Gideon had been giving me all 
the time he had eaten my bread and been sheltered 
under my roof. This was the return he had made 
for my kindness and consideration. Where could 
that young man have got his secret and wicked 
mind from? Not from his mother, whose heart 
had been always open to tender impressions, and 
who, the moment she saw me, could not help speak- 
ing frankly. It was the father who had bestowed 
upon his son the curse of his venomous nature. 
Heavens ! What some parents have to answer for ! 
There must have been a time in the world when 
Imman creatures were suckled at the teats of treach- 
erous animals. 

How could I be angry with the unfortunate wom- 
an ? I pitied her — from my heart I pitied her. 
What a fate was hers ! First the father, then the 
son. She was born to be deceived. She put her 
trust in rocks that wounded her body and brought 
anguish to her soul. In what way was it all to end ? 


SELF-DOOMED. 97 

My mission was useless, I saw that clearly enough, 
and I was almost tempted to exclaim, Never again 
will I attempt to do good to any living creature !” 
I had been animated by the best intentions, and they 
were turned as poisonous arrows against me. After 
what I had heard I was convinced that Louisa Wolf 
would put a wrong construction upon every word I 
uttered concerning her son. Her mother’s love was 
too strong a shield for me to hope to produce any 
good effect upon it in my desire to assist her. Per- 
haps it was as well ; it was labor saved. Her son’s 
nature was too bad to be altered for the better; it 
was rotten to the coi’e. 

But I was desirous to ascertain the full extent of 
his misrepresentations. 

“You know, then,” I said, “how much your son is 
indebted to me.” 

My amazement was great when she mentioned a 
sum it would have taken him twenty years to repay. 

“ Oh, I know, I know !” she cried, in terrible agita- 
tion, invoking, by the movement of her hands. Heav- 
en’s imprecations on my head. “You have set it all 
down against him, every florin, and added devil’s in- 
terest, so as to make him your slave for life. From 
the first week he became your apprentice you 
brought him in your debt, and you continued to do 
so day after day, week after week, till his time was 
out. He could not leave you as he wished to do, 
7 


SELF-DOOMED. 


because you had in your false books page upon page 
of figures, which you told hiiii he must clear off. 
You threatened him with prison if he left in your 
debt. You would like me to believe that it is not 
true — you would like me to believe that you are an 
honorable, good man, and that my son is a thief; 
but, Gustave Fink, you can no longer deceive me. 
There was a time — but it is past; I have been warn- 
ed against you. My son has told me — yes, he has 
told me in his letters that one day you would seek 
me out, and endeavor to make me believe that he 
is worse than you are yourself. You can save the 
lies; keep them to use on some other poor wom- 
an. Where is Heaven’s justice that such men as 
you prosper, while honest, upright men are made to 
suffer? Gideon might dispute the debt — he might 
take you before the j udges, and say, ^ My master is 
a rogue ; his accounts are false ; he makes me largely 
in debt to him because he does not wish me to leave 
his service.’ Of what use would it be ? A poor 
man against a rich man — we know what that comes 
to in law. And you have made people think you 
are so good. Kind Master Fink ! Benevolent Mas- 
ter Fink! That is how they speak of you — those 
who are not acquainted with your real character. 
You would have had me believe it by sending me 
money from time to time, and putting down twice 
the sum in your books against Gideon. You have 


SELF-DOOMED. ' 


99 


done yourself no good ; every florin you have sent 
me I have sent back to my poor boy — yes, every 
florin. I have wanted bread over and over again, 
but I have fasted for days rather than spend the 
smallest coin of your money upon myself. It was 
my son’s money you were sending me, not your own. 
But your punishment is coming. Gideon is your 
slave ; he will not be so much longer. He will be 
free soon, and then he will expose you, and will let 
me live with him. He will be rich one day, mark 
my words, and you will have to stand aside and bow 
to him. And I shall be with him — it will break 
your heart to see him and his loving mother to- 
gether at last, you who have tried your hardest to 
keep us apart. Every year I have hoped to go to 
him, but you have compelled him to put me off. 
‘ Not this year,’ he has been obliged to write, ^ not 
this year, but next. Master Fink will not hear of it 
yet awhile, and he has so got me in his power that I 
dare not offend him by asking you to. come.’ And 
then again, when another year went by, ^Master 
Fink swears he will discharge me if you come, and 
will imprison me for the money he says I owe him.’ 
And again and again and again the same. What 
could my poor boy do when you had set your heart 
upon separating us? So it has gone on all these 
weary years, and I have never kissed my boy’s bright 
face since the unhappy day he left me to become 


100 


SELF-DOOMED. 


-your apprentice. What wicked thing had I done 
in my life that I should be so bitterly punished? 
What evil fortune led me to your door to beg you 
to rob me of my son ? Better that I had dropped 
down dead on the road, for then Gideon would have 
remained among friends.” Tears streamed from her 
eyes ; her face was convulsed with grief. What 
pleasure,” she continued, wringing her hands and 
swaying to and fro, “ do you think I have in this 
world except him, my boy, my baby that I suckled 
at ray breast? What do I care for in the world but 
him? Has my life been so full of joy that you 
should bring a deeper misery into it than any T 
have suffered? You are my son’s enemy and mine 
— oh, I have known it long! You were my enemy 
when I was a girl, and you used to speak against 
Steven because I chose him instead of you.” 

I had listened in profound sorrow and indignation 
to the outpourings of her grief, but for the life of me 
I could not remain silent at this accusation. 

Louisa Wolf,” I said, “ I never spoke against 
your husband. What I thought I thought, but I 
never openly uttered one word against Steven Wolf. 
You were free to choose, and you chose. With all 
my heart I wish that your choice had brought you 
greater happiness.” 

When I saw her eyes wandering mournfully round 
her cheerless apartment I was angry with myself for 


SELF-DOOMED. 


101 


having spoken. It would have been more generous 
by far to have held iny tongue. 

‘‘ Ah/’ she said, shuddering, this is part of your 
revenge — this is why you come here — to exult and 
rejoice over my misery ! Years ago you resolved 
in your heart that you would one day be revenged 
upon me for refusing you and accepting another 
man. Well, you have your revenge ! Look at my 
home — you see the whole of it. There is no other 
room. Here is my bed — a little straw on the bare 
boards. Here is the cupboard in which I keep my 
food when I have any. Take your fill, take your fill 
— you are well revenged. Look at my face — look at 
my hands — see what I have come to, and rejoice !” 
She struck her breast despairingly. Into my eyes 
the warm tears gushed, but she could not see them, 
for she was blinded by her own. “ Gustave Fink, I 
once held you in my heart — I did, although I ac- 
cepted Steven; even then I held you in my lieart. 
Not guiltily, no, not guiltily, but as a sister might a 
brother whom she could love and honor. I thought 
of you as a pure-minded, noble, generous man, and 
I looked up to you as the best I had ever known. 
Now, in my hearf you have destroyed that image, 
and I regard you as a monster. Yes, you are there 
still, but as my enemy and my son’s enemy. You 
have poisoned my life — your revenge has reached as 
far as that. From the day upon which conviction 


102 


SELF-DOOMED. 


entered my mind that you were not worthy of my 
esteem, I had nothing but the memory of my son to 
comfort me. You would rob me of him, but you 
shall not — you shall not, I say ! God will prevent 
you, and will smite you with a terrible but just pun- 
ishment for your cruelty to a poor and suffering 
woman 

Of what use to attempt to undeceive her? It would 
have been but adding torture to torture. But was it 
not infamous that one’s good intentions should have 
been frustrated, and one’s kindness turned to gall, by 
the machinations of a knave ? Still, I did say, out 
of simple j ustice to myself, 

“ Believe it or not, as you will, Louisa Wolf, my 
only motive in coming here was to endeavor to do 
you and your son a kindness.” 

I do not believe it,” said the poor creature, vehe- 
mently ; your actions give your words the lie ! An- 
swer me this, if you can. Did you seek me out to 
tell me that Gideon had done his duty by you, that 
he was a faitliful, willing, honest servant, and tliat 
you are satisfied with him, and grateful to him for 
the great services he has rendered you? Did you 
come here to give me pleasure or sorrow? You are 
silent — you dare not speak ; no, Gustave Fink, you 
dare not! God once smote a liar dead, and you fear 
he would smite you the same. Now, hear me. Be- 
fore this year is out I will see my son, or die ! Noth- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


103 


ing shall prevent me — nothing but death ! If he can- 
not come to me I will go to him, and give him a 
mother’s blessing — I will, as there is a Judge in 
heaven by whom yon shall one day be condemned !” 

Well, I left her; it was the best mercy I could 
show her. 

As I turned my back upon the miserable hovel I 
was conscious that a spiritual sweetness had depart- 
ed from my life, and that a human link of love was 
snapped which could never again be made whole. 
Now that I had lost the esteem of the woman whose 
laugh was the cheeriest, whose eyes the brightest, 
whose face the sunniest in my remembrance, I felt 
how precious it had been to me, and how, in its un- 
recognized influence, it had often helped to soften 
my judgment and my temper when things were not 
going exactly right with me. 

Thus it happened that twice in my life had I re- 
ceived a terrible wound at the hands of a good and 
virtuous woman whom I had honorably loved. 

It was fortunate that at least two or three days 
were to elapse between my interview with Louisa 
Wolf and my coming face to face again with her 
treacherous son. Had I seen him immediately after 
the interview I might have conducted myself in an 
unbecoming manner, and it would have been good 
neither for him nor me. I had time on my home- 
ward journey to reason with myself. “ Shall I make 


104 


SELF-DOOMED. 


myself unhappy,” I thought, shall I fret myself to 
a shadow because I have been maligned ? Shall I 
allow such a rascal as Gideon Wolf to entirely de- 
stroy my peace and repose ? That would, indeed, be 
giving him an advantage over me. Let me rather 
bear this stroke with equanimity, and be thankful 
that there are still some honest men left in the 
world.” But it was poor comfort, and it needed 
all my philosophy to calm the turbulence of my feel- 
ings. So startling were the revelations! To think 
that all the money I had sent to his mother during 
the last ten years, to soften her lot, should have found 
its way into Gideon Wolfs pocket! And for him 
never to have given me the slightest cause for suspi- 
cion that this cunning game was being systematically 
carried on ! It was a bit of trickery worthy of his 
friend Pretzel. The pair of knaves ! It was well 
for him — yes, it was well for him that I did not meet 
him when I left his mother’s cottage. I should have 
been tempted to break every bone in his body. 

The latter part of the journey was by no means so 
enjoyable as the first. The familiar scenes and signs 
which had afforded me so much pleasure on my out- 
ward journey presented themselves in quite a differ- 
ent aspect. They appeared to have grown suddenly 
much older, to have become faded. What had hap- 
pened to them ? Had they, also, met with a bitter 
disappointment that they should so swiftly have lost 


SELF-DOOMED. 


105 


the greater part of their beauty? The innkeeper’s 
wife was scolding her baby, who was crying and 
kicking like a little demon ; the woman herself was 
very plain-looking, and there was a sour expression 
on her face ; the orchards were dusty, the ducks 
seemed discontented, as though they had eaten some- 
thing which disagreed with them, the brooks and 
streams were not so bright, the pigeons flew with 
heavy wings, the children were listless in their move- 
ments, the hedges had lost their fragrance, the flr- 
trees on the heights bent sadly towards me. Thus 
do we gain and convey impressions according to our 
moods. joyous heart can see the sun behind the 
clouds, and there is gladness in the brightest day. 
Yes, yes — a cheerful and contented spirit is man’s 
best possession. 


106 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER XL 

RELATES HOW GIDEON WOLF LEFT MASTER FINk’s 
EMPLOYMENT. 

I ARRIVED home a little before noon on Saturday, 
and took down my shutters and examined my stock. 
Nothing was missing or disturbed ; everything was 
as I had left it, except that some of the brooches 
and chains had been brightened. That was my old 
Anna’s doings, though she said nothing about it till 
I asked her. The delight evinced by this faithful 
servant at my return moved me deeply. Her hands 
hovered about me with exceeding tenderness. She 
trotted up and down stairs briskly, really as if slie 
were a young girl, and before I had been half an 
hour in the house she set before me a meal that did 
the heart good only to look at it. The bright knives 
and forks and spoons, the snowy table-cloth and nap- 
kins, the shining glasses, the sweetness and cleanliness 
all around — let me tell you that there lies in these 
things a medicine for the soul: it is not only the 
body that benefits by their infiuence. And when 
Anna removed the covers — ah, then ! The delicious 
aroma floated into my inner being as it were, at- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


107 


tacked by melaDcholy, vanquished it, and sent it to 
the rightabout. I was myself again. I rubbed my 
hands, and Anna rubbed hers. She was as pleased 
as I was. 

Gideon Wolf came in before I had finished my 
meal. His nostrils twitched; he sniffed the fra- 
grance. 

“ It smells good. Master Fink,” he said. 

“ It eats better,” I said. 

I did not ask him to join me; after what I had 
heard it was not possible for me to sit at the same 
table with him. 

“Did you enjoy your holiday?” he asked. 

I did not answer him ; I went on with my meal. 

“But it was not a real holiday, was it?” he con- 
tinued. “You went partly on business. Did you 
do a good stroke? You had fine weather. Which 
road did you take?” 

“You want to know too much,” I said, and I rose 
from the table and went into the shop. He followed 
me there. 

I had made up my mind as to the course I should 
pursue towards him. I would get rid of him as 
quickly as possible. To have a treacherous creature 
continually in my sight would have made my life 
unbearable. He should go; he had done mischief 
enough; I would have nothing more to do with 
him. 


108 


SELF-DOOMED. 


He felt the coldness of my reception ; I wished 
him to feel it. 

You do not seem glad to see me,” he said. 

There is no special reason for joy,” I replied, 
shall not trouble myself, however,” he said. 
“ Here are the watches you gave me to repair.” 

I laid them aside and paid him. He counted the 
money discontentedly. 

It will barely pay for ray week’s board and lodg- 
ing,” he said. I made no remark. Then he opened 
fire in real earnest. You do not forget the conver- 
sation we had last Saturday, Master Fink ?” 

Surely not,” I replied ; it is fixed in my memory.” 

“ Do you still refuse the offer I made you ?” 

I still refuse it.” 

“ Once is enough. I have nothing more to say 
on the subject. Perhaps it will be for my good that 
you do not take me into partnership.” 

‘‘ Perhaps it will.” 

My laconic answers angered him. 

I should be a fool to waste the best years of my 
life in a service so unprofitable.” 

Very likely, very likely.” 

‘‘You have lately frequently complained of my 
woi’k.” 

“With good cause. In spite of all my endeavors 
to teach you, I never saw a watch-maker handle a 
watch more clumsily than you do.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


109 


“ It proves that I was made for liigher things.” 

Or lower.” 

“ At all events I am going to better myself.” 

am rejoiced to hear it. You give me notice to 
leave?” 

^^If it pleases yon, Master Fink.” 

It pleases me well. When is the affliction to fall 
upon me ?” 

As soon as convenient. Next week, or earlier, if 
it is acceptable.” 

“ It is quite acceptable. Go, Gideon, not next 
week, but this; not on Monday, but to-day — now, 
this very hour. I will not delay your prosperity by 
a single movement of a pendulum.” 

He was disturbed, not expecting so cheerful an ac- 
quiescence. Did the rascal think I should beg him 
to stay ? 

“ When I pay for the food I have had this week,” 
he whined, I shall have nothing left.” 

Do I owe you anything? I thought it was the 
other way — or have I been dreaming all these years ?” 

‘^Tou do not strictly owe me anything; but you 
surely do not wish to thrust me on the world in a 
state of beggary !” 

“It is not I who thrust you on tlie world ; it is your 
own deliberate act, my worthy Gideon, and your plans 
to better yourself are already laid. However, your 
appeal shall not be made in vain. I will deal, not 


110 


SELF-DOOMED. 


justly, but generously, towards you.” I opened my 
safe, and took therefrom a packet containing coins. 

I am going to make you a present of twenty-eight 
florins.” His eyes glistened, and he held out his 
eager hand. ‘^All bad ones, Gideon, every one of 
them ! But I am not responsible for that, it is your 
affair. Among them you will And, with a date 
scratched on them, two false florins you brought to 
me this day four weeks as having been paid to you 
by Strauss the butcher, for repairs done to his 
watch.” 

‘^He gave them to me!” cried Gideon, turning 
very white. His limbs trembled; he was in mor- 
tal fear, “With his own hands he gave them to 
me.” 

“ And you gave them to me. Go to Strauss, and 
inform him that he deals in bad money, for you will 
find in this packet three other false florins which you 
brought to me from him four months ago — ^you will 
see the date on them — in payment for a pair of silver 
ear-rings he bought for his little daughter. Go to 
Strauss, Gideon, go to him. He was never known 
to rob even the rich, and if you succeed in convinc- 
ing him that he gave you the five bad florins, he will 
give you five good ones in exchange for them. He 
will do it, Gideon, without a murmur, for naturally 
he will be desirous to keep such a transaction very 
quiet. There is also another bad coin you brought 


SELF'DOOMED. 


Ill 


to me from Rosenblatt the clothes-mender. Perliaps 
he found it in an old coat he was patching. There 
are seven others in a batch — mere bits of lead, Gide- 
on — which you brought to me from Philip Adler 
the rabbi, in payment of a long-standing account. 
Philip Adler is a charitable man, and much loved. 
Go to him, and acquaint him with this sad business ; 
he will not see you wronged.” 

“It is a plot!” gasped Gideon. “You wish to 
ruin me ; you wish to take away my character.” 

“Let us not speak of plots,” I said, and here my 
voice grew stern. “Let us not speak of taking 
characters away. * Every florin in this packet I re- 
ceived direct from your hands, and I have kept a 
faithful record of them. You will be glad to receive 
them back, for it is not a pleasant matter ; it is, in- 
deed, as you are well aware, a most dangerous mat- 
ter. We live in evil times, Gideon, and one needs 
to be very, very careful in his dealings. Beware of 
rogues and backbiters; avoid bad company; speak 
always the truth ; do not malign your benefactors ; 
do not play cards with the devil ; and do not betray 
the innocent. Fare you well, Gideon Wolf.” 

Ilis tongue was afflicted with a kind of St. Vitus’s 
dance as he endeavored to explain that he was inno- 
cent of this dangerous passing of bad money for 
good. I sat back in my chair, and did not assist him 
out of his tangle of words, I listened in silence, and 


112 


SELF-DOOMED. 


when his tongue had run itself down, like an ill-reg- 
ulated watch, I bade him farewell once more, and 
shut my door upon him. 

It was a happy release. Old Anna was overjoyed. 
Now I can sleep in peace,” she said. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


113 


CHAPTER XIL 

MASTER FINK ENDEAVORS TO RESCUE KATRINE LOEBEO 
FROM THE EVIL INFLUENCE OF PRETZEL THE MISER. 

I DID not entirely lose sight of Gideon. It is not 
easy in a town like this for a man to hide himself 
and Iiis doings from the knowledge of his neighbors, 
and it was very soon known to everybody that Gid- 
eon Wolf and I had parted company. The question 
now was what he would do, how he intended to live. 
I devoutly hoped that he would leave the town and 
seek his fortune elsewhere, but my hope was not 
fulfilled. Old Anna, womanlike, was more curious 
about him than I, and she made it her business to 
lind out all she could concerning his movements. 
Thus for some time all the information I received 
with reference to him came through her. On one 
day it was, 

“Gideon Wolf called this morning upon Peterson 
the tanner, to collect some money he owes Miser 
Pretzel.” 

On another day, 

“ They were walking together this afternoon, Pret- 
zel and Gideon.” 


8 


.114 


SELF-DOOMED. 


And at length, 

“Gideon Wolf has gone to live in the Temple, in 
the garret of the house immediately opposite Miser 
Pretzel’s.” 

' There have been great changes in the town these 
last few years. The Temple has been pulled down 
to make room for the new railway-station which is 
to bring confusion into our quiet lives. That demon. 
Steam, will no longer permit us to live in peace and 
quietness. The young may rejoice in these changes; 
to the old they are an affliction. 

It was certainly time the Temple was destroyed, 
for it was a disgrace. Long, long since, hundreds of 
years ago, it had been used as a refuge for monks 
and priests, and it was then that it got to be called 
the Temple. The houses, I have no doubt, were 
grand places in those days, but now they were so old 
and rickety that timid people had a fear of them. 
As for honest and virtuous folk, on no account would 
they- reside there. It bore a dreadful reputation, 
and was given up entirely to vile and desperate 
characters, jailbirds, loose women, desperadoes, and 
adventurers. Nevertheless, there it was that Gideon 
Wolf took up his quarters, at the top of a house four 
stories high, the roof of which nearly touched the 
clouds. To save it from tumbling down, a heavy beam 
had been fixed high in the air, in between it and the 
rotten old house on the opposite side, in which Pretzel 


SELF-DOOMED. 


115 


lived. These decrepit, worn-out tenements leaned 
towards each other from sheer weakness, and could 
not stand without support, like human beings who in 
their old age require a prop to save them from fall- 
ing to the earth. The crossbeam between the two 
houses was fixed, on the left, just below the top win- 
dow of Miser Pretzel’s house, and, on the right, im- 
mediately below the window of the garret in which 
Gideon Wolf slept. The lower portion of this house 
was occupied by people of bad character, the second 
and third floors were empty, and only Gideon lived 
in the garret. In Miser Pretzel’s house no one re- 
sided but himself; it was his own property, and he 
would not admit a tenant. Dwelling for years 
'among lawless people, and keeping always, as was 
currently reported, a large sum of money in his 
rooms, it was w’onderful that he was not robbed. 
But he seemed to be protected by a charm, for no 
ill befell him, and he was able to carry on his usuri- 
ous practices without check or hinderance. It was 
understood that Pretzel had taken Gideon into his 
employ, for the young man was now regularly en- 
gaged in collecting debts owing to the miser by poor 
people who had been drawn into his web. 

But if appearances went for anything, Gideon Wolf 
did not thrive in his new vocation. Miser Pretzel, 
who loved his money with a closer love than men 
have for their children, was not Mkely to pay liberal 


116 


SELF-DOOMED. 


wages to those who worked for him, and Gideon 
grew shabbier and poorer week by week. I had op- 
portunities of observing this, for he sometimes passed 
my shop ; but between us not a word was exchanged. 

Miser Pretzel will get Gideon well into his 
clutches,” said Anna, “ and then the devil will fly 
away with the pair of them.” 

The autumn waned, and winter came on. A bit- 
ter, cheerless winter, always remembered because of 
its heavy snowfalls, the like of which had never been 
seen in the town. In the first week of November 
Anna burst in upon me with the words, 

‘^What do you think? Katrine Loebeg has left* 
her situation, and has gone to attend upon Miser 
Pretzel.” 

That is bad news indeed,” I said. 

The child!” cried Anna, in deep distress. The 
foolish, foolish child 1 She will come quickly now to 
shame and ruin ! Will no one stretch out a helping 
hand to her — will no one save her ?” 

How can it be done ?” I asked. Heaven knows 
I would sacrifice much to save the poor girl, but you 
remember how she received us when we spoke to her 
before. She is her own mistress, and can do as she 
pleases ; no person has any legal authority over her. 
Were I her grandfather, or her uncle, or even a dis- 
tant relative of her dead mother, I might have some 
right to interfere — although it would be useless. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


117 


Anna, quite useless ; of that I am certain. She does 
not see Gideon Wolf with our eyes, and it is he, no 
doubt, who lias been instrumental in getting lier into 
Miser Pretzel’s house.” 

Master Fink,” said Anna, ^^you have a solemn 
duty before yon, and you must not shrink from it. 
You must save that sweet child from life-long grief. 
It is in your power. All the town will bless you for 
the deed.” 

“I don’t want all the town to bless me,” I said, 
somewhat testily I must own. “ I am content to do 
what is right for right’s sake, and for the sake of my 
conscience. In Heaven’s name enlighten me how it 
is in my power to save Katrine !” 

Old Anna spoke now very earnestly. “There is 
no one in the world who is so thoroughly acquainted 
as yourself with the vile nature of that scorpion, Gid- 
eon Wolf. To stand tamely by, and allow him to 
drag the innocent soul of Katrine down to perdition 
would be a heavy sin. Oh, Master Fink, I tliink there 
is a way. You have no wife, you have no child — ” 

“Ah,” I exclaimed, “I see! you wish me to adopt 
Katrine as my child. Thank you, Anna, thank you ; 
you have a kind heart. It is a noble idea. I will 
do it — yes, Anna, I will do it, if Katrine will con- 
sent. I will be a father unto lier, and as God is my 
judge I will deal tenderly and lovingly by her. It 
will be a beautiful thing to have a fresh young being 


118 


SELF-DOOMED. 


like her in the house. And in course of time she 
shall forget that rascal, Gideon Wolf, and set her 
heart upon some fine honest young fellow who will 
make her happy.” I glowed with pleasurable ex- 
citement ; I could not keep my seat ; I walked up 
and down the room, rubbing my hands. 

“Master Fink,” said Anna, wiping her tears away 
with the back of her hand, “ I bless the day I first 
took service with you.” 

“ Never mind that, never mind that,” I cried ; “ it 
is a waste of time to talk of such things. We must 
see her at once — we must not lose a moment. She 
is in danger, in positive danger.” And then, all in a 
moment, my spirits fell. “Are you sure, Anna, that 
she lives with Miser Pretzel ?” 

“ Yes, there is no doubt of it, and we must go to 
his house, and speak to her there.” 

“ Speak to her in Pretzel’s house ! Do you forget 
the enmity he bears to me ? He will not admit us; 
he will laugh at us, and shut the door in our faces. 
He has been waiting for years to spite me ; old as he is 
he would walk a hundred miles to do me an injury.” 

“We go to see Katrine, not to see him. Master 
Fink. There is nothing to be afraid of ; he will not 
eat us, and if he won’t admit us into the house we 
will call Katrine out, and speak to her in the streets. 
Because it is unpleasant to do, you must not shrink 
from it.” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Il9 


“ i will not,” I said, firmly. “ Come, Anna, you 
shall accompany me. What is right to be done 
should be done without delay.” 

In less than three minutes I had locked up my 
shop, and Anna and I were on our way to the Tem- 
ple ; and in due time we paused before the door of 
Pretzel’s house. 

It was years since I had visited the Temple, and I 
was struck by the ruined appearance of the habita- 
tions. Dirt and filth, rotting timbers, broken win- 
dows stuffed with rags to keep out wind and rain, 
crumbling stones, and signs of dilapidation, met my 
eye whichever way I turned. One house had shrunk 
in the middle, just as if it had a pain in its stomach, 
and there was not a dwelling that did not bear some 
strange resemblance to a drunkard in the last days 
of his evil life. The signs of animation were quite 
as deplorable. The cats were skinny, vicious, fiery- 
eyed ; fowls I should have fied from in horror had 
their emaciated bodies been placed on my table were 
pecking in the gutters ; and a dog, a very skeleton 
of a dog, whose ribs were almost breaking through 
its skin, barked and snapped at my heels as I knocked 
at Miser Pretzel’s door. Katrine herself opened it. 
She turned pale when she saw us, and made a mo- 
tion as though she would shut the door in our faces ; 
but I held it back, and said, in a gentle tone, 

“ Katrine, we have come in perfect friendship, 


120 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Anna and I. We wish to speak to you in love and 
lionest friendship — ” 

Who is there — who is there cried Miser Pretzel, 
from the lower part of the house. What is keep- 
ing you so long, Katrine ?” 

It is Master Fink and Anna,” replied Katrine. 

He was up in an instant, and glided before Katrine 
and faced us. 

What an honor — what an honor !” he exclaimed, 
surveying us with his sly eyes. ‘‘ Kow, whoever would 
have thought that honest Master Fink, upright Mas- 
ter Fink, who wastes young men’s lives, and ruins 
them, and treats them like dirt under his feet — who- 
ever would have thought that he would make a 
friendly visit to poor old Pretzel! And handsome 
Anna, too, with her beautiful white teeth close shut 
over her malicious old tongue — she has come to see 
the poor old man ! Katrine, my child,” and Pretzel 
drew the girl, who was now looking at us in anger, 
close to him, how shall we receive these worthy 
people who take away a young girl’s character, and 
lay cunning plots to ensnare a faithful, generous- 
hearted, hard-working young man whom they have 
robbed of his rights? Flow shall we receive them, 
eh ?” And he patted the young girl's hand, which 
he had placed on his arm, and smiled at us malevo- 
lently. 

I sighed. The power the old villain exercised 


SELF-DOOMED. 


121 


over the innocent girl was apparent ; every word he 
spoke struck home, and increased the dislike with 
which she regarded us. I was afraid that the mis- 
chief had gone too far for me to repair it; but I 
would not leave without making the attempt. I had 
some difficulty in preventing Anna from reviling 
Pretzel ; she had not my prudence or self-control. 

I have not come to see you, Pretzel ; my visit 
is to Katrine.” 

Ah, ah,” he rejoined, ‘^you have not come to see 
me; but who is to believe a liar? I had a notion 
tliat you wished to borrow another three thousand 
florins of me for two years without interest. That is 
what I did for this old fellow once, Katrine — ask 
him to deny it. He cannot, you see. He was on 
the point of ruin, and because I did this good deed 
out of pure compassion, because I lent him three 
thousand florins without interest, and so saved him 
from beggary and the gutter, he has gone on ever 
since speaking ill of me, and maligning me behind 
my back, as he has maligned his confiding, unfort- 
unate apprentice. It is how he serves everybody. 
First he pretends to be kind to them, and when he 
has got them in his power he bites them and blackens 
their reputations. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 
His appearance is quite benevolent, is it not, Katrine, 
my child ? But never trust a man with such a face 
as that — never, never, or you will rue the day. Now 


m 


SELF-DOOMED. 


I would lay a wager that he has some evil intention 
in his mind as he stands there looking at you with 
pretended sadness. Ask him what it is he wants to 
say to you 

What do you want of me?” asked Katrine, in a 
tone of deep resentment. 

By a great effort I controlled myself. ‘‘ Katrine 
Loebeg,” I said, this is no place for you. None 
but bad people live in this neighborhood — ” 

Pretzel interrupted me. ^‘What did I tell you, 
Katrine? And here stand I, Pretzel, Gideon Wolf’s 
best friend, the friend who is going one day to make 
him rich; and in the opposite house lives Gideon 
himself. Oh, what bad people live here — what bad, 
bad people !” 

I have come with a fatherly intention, Katrine,” 
I said, and old Anna is with me — old Anna, who 
loves you, and wishes you nothing but good.” 

First a kiss, and then a scratch,” sneered Pretzel. 
‘^Think of old Anna loving you so dearly — she who 
said to you what she did about Gideon, who would 
not sleep in the same house with him, and who would 
not cook a meal for him for all the money that could 
be offered her ! Dear me, dear me — what a benevo- 
lent, kind-hearted, backbiting old woman !” 

I continued ; I would not be driven from my pur- 
pose by his sneers. 

I ask you to come and live with me as my daugh- 


SELF-DOOMED. 


123 


ter, Katrine. I will protect yon as a father ; I will 
provide for yon as a father. Inquire of any person 
in the town about my character — ” 

Yes, yes,” said Pretzel, ask Gideon Wolf for 
Master Fink’s character. Ask Gideon, ask Gideon.” 

“ — And yon will learn that I have never wronged 
a human being — ” 

^^Then Gideon Wolf is not hnman,” said Pretzel, 
and I am an image of stone. Yon shall prove for 
yourself, Katrine, what kind of a man this is who 
stands before ns. He shall himself show you his 
benevolent heart. Ask him but one question — 
whether, if you accept his offer, he will open his 
doors to Gideon Wolf, so that yon may all live to- 
gether in love and good-will?” 

Will yon do this?” asked Katrine. 

“No,” 1 answered, “it is impossible.” 

“ What do yon say to that, Katrine ?” cried Pretzel. 
“ Does not that show yon something of his real mean- 
ing? He has abominable ideas in his head about 
yon. He wants you as his daughter — oh yes, as his 
daughter ! That is his pretence. It is infamous, in- 
famous! If Gideon were here he would throw this 
old sinner from my door-step into the road. Katrine, 
my child, I think I hear a window slamming down- 
stairs. Kun and shut it, and see that all the doors 
are secure. We must protect ourselves against this 
wrong-doer.” 


124 


SELF-DOOMED. 


Katrine obeyed, and the moment she was out of 
sight Pretzel came close to me and Anna. 

How many years is it, Master Fink,” he hissed, 
since I told you I would be even with you ? Pretzel 
never forgets — never forgets ; and never forgives — 
never forgives! You will find that I shall be more 
than even with yon. I will strike you through this 
simple girl. I will ruin her, yes, I will blight her 
life, because I know it will cause you sorrow. That 
will be interest for the money you borrowed of me 
— good interest, good interest ! I have Katrine and 
her lover in my power, and nothing that you can do 
shall save them. The deeper the misery into which 
she is plunged the deeper will be your suffering. I 
shall remember that, I shall remember that, and 
Gideon Wolf and I, between us, shall strike her with 
wretchedness. What do you say to that, you old 
hag?” And he poked his face, upon which there 
was really a diabolical expression, so close to Anna’s 
that she jumped back, as if tlie evil one himself were 
attempting to seize her. Katrine now re-appeared, 
and Pretzel put his arm round her waist to protect 
her, and continued, “ This scoundrel has been un- 
bosoming himself to me while you were away, and 
has been gloating over his wicked intentions. You 
have heard his offer, and if you allow him to go on 
he will tell you, being the prince of liars, that if you 
do not accept it you will be ruined and brought to 


SELF-DOOMED. 


125 


sorrow. He is not at all particular in what he says. 
Perhaps you wish to hear him.” 

“ I do not,” said the poor girl, firmly. 

“ Remember, then, liow he has treated Gideon Wolf, 
and give him his answer, Katrine.” 

She looked me full in the face. You are a slan- 
derer,” she said; ^^you have an abominable heart. 
You cheat your workmen ; you set snares for the 
innocent; and you would separate me and Gideon, 
whom I love with all my soul. Go; 1 will have 
nothing to say to you.” 

Heaven pity you !” 1 sighed ; and Anna and I 
walked slowly away, and did not speak a single word 
till we reached home. Then Anna said, 

^^Do not take it too much to heart, Master Fink. 
You have done your duty.” 

But we were both very sad for many days. 


126 


SELF-DOOMED. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

GIDEON WOLF AND HIS MOTHER BEGIN THE NEW YEAR 
TOGETHER. 

Before we knew where we were, the last day of 
the old year was upon us. Time is a thief; he is 
forever stealing upon us, and robbing us of sunny 
moments. He ripens to destroy. Joy vanishes, but 
sorrow remains. Never, never, though I live to a 
hundred, shall I forget that last day of the old year. 

For four days the snow had fallen without cessa- 
tion — heavy, thick, blinding snow. There was no 
telling when it would leave off. The streets were a 
foot deep, and people coming in from the surround- 
ing country related dismal stories of the state of the 
land. Depend upon it that those who had no occa- 
sion to leave their houses were glad enough to shut 
out the snow and the wind, and sit by their firesides, 
drinking hot spiced wine. It had been a custom 
with me at different times of the year, especially on 
New-year’s night, for every person in my house to 
assemble a little before midnight, for the purpose of 
drinking more than one steaming glass of wine of 
Anna’s making. That was not the only good cheer 


SELF-DOOMED. 


127 


in which we indulged ; and it happened sometimes 
that friends were with us to help us eat the splendid 
dishes which Anna cooked for us. This year Anna 
and I were alone. The day had not been particularly 
joyous, but although no guests sat at my table I did 
not allow the old year to go out unrecognized. Ex- 
actly as the clock struck eleven my faithful old 
house-keeper made her appearance, carrying a jug 
of hot wine, the fragrant steam of which was really 
delightful. 

thought I would come a little earlier than 
usual,” said Anna, in case you might be lonely.” 

“You did right, Anna,” I said. 

I filled her glass and mine, and then we shook 
hands, and drank the toast, “ May we all be alive at 
the birth of another year, in contentment and health !” 
Then Anna, upon my invitation, sat on the opposite 
side of the fire, and we disposed ourselves for a chat. 

“This is the quietest New Year we have ever 
spent,” I said. “ Just before you came in, Anna, I 
was feeling very melancholy.” 

“ It does no harm, a little melancholy,” said Anna, 
“though this is a week in which happiness should 
reign. For my part, always at this time I keep 
thinking of the poor and pitying them, and wishing 
I could do a great deal for them.” 

It is only just to the memory of my old Anna to 
say that she was one of the kindest souls in existence. 


128 


SELF-DOOMED. 


She was forever giving away — so much so that it was 
impossible for her to save money — and she never 
spoke of her charities. It was seldom that she could 
not see to the bottom of her purse. 

We spoke of many things — of the storm raging 
without, of Katrine Loebeg, of Gideon Wolf, of 
Miser Pretzel — and wondered how they were spend- 
ing the evening. Then Anna related to me a pitiful 
story of one New-year’s night, long ago in the past, 
when she was a child living with her mother, who 
was very poor. How that they had no home, and 
were walking through the cold snow in grief and 
darkness, when they saw lights in the windows of a 
farm-house. How they crept to the windows, and 
how, although fierce dogs were chained up they did 
not even bark at Anna and her mother. How they 
peeped through the windows, and saw all the family 
so happy that Anna began to sob. How her sobs 
reached the ears of those within, and how the master 
came out, and after a few questions took them into 
his house, where they were fed and warmed and 
made happy. She had nearly come to the end of her 
story, which she related with wonderful animation, 
when I held up my hand. 

“ I thought I heard a sound at the street door,” I said. 

We listened in silence, but heard nothing, and I 
told Anna to proceed. Her story was just finished 
as I held up my hand again. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


129 


I must be haunted,” I said ; “ when I don’t listen, 
I hear sounds like moans; when I listen, I hear noth- 
ing. I cannot rest till I satisfy myself.” 

I went to the street door and opened it, and the 
snow and the howling wind beat in upon me and 
almost blinded me. I called out loudly many times, 
and receiving no answer, nor seeing anything, was 
about to close the door, when Anna, who had fol- 
lowed me, gave a great scream, and darting past me 
fell upon her knees. I looked down, and beheld her 
busy about the form of a woman lying in the snow. 
1 stooped to assist her; and we carried the insensible 
woman into my room, and laid her before the fire. 

“ Poor thing, poor thing !” said Anna, rubbing the 
woman’s hands and limbs. Ah, what a state she is 
in ! God help us, I fear, she is frozen to death.” 

As she spoke these words I recognized the woman. 

“It is Louisa Wolf,” I said, pityingly, “Gideon 
Wolf’s mother, for whom you made some soup on 
the day she came to ask me to take her son as my 
apprentice. No wonder that you do not recognize 
her ; she is sadly, sadly altered. She has come — I 
divine it — to spend the New Year with her son, 
whom she has not seen since he was a lad. For 
Heaven’s sake, let us do all we can to revive her !” 

Anna hurried away to light the fire and get the 
bed ready in the room Gideon used to occupy. Be- 
fore she returned, the warmth and the hot wine I 
9 


130 


SELF-DOOMED. 


succeeded in making the poor creature drink — and I 
have no doubt the mother’s love which had sustained 
her in her weary journey — restored Louisa Wolf to 
consciousness. She opened her eyes and they fell 
upon me. Ah, what a state of poverty she was in ! 
Her clothes were in rags, her boots were worn off her 
feet, her face was pinched with cold and hunger and 
suffering. My heart bled for her. Recognizing me, 
she pushed me feebly from her with exclamations of 
horror, and struggled to her feet. 

My son !” she cried, in a terrible voice ; so hoarse 
was it, so charged with overwrought agony, that it 
was scarcely human. My son !” 

Rest yourself first,” I said, compassionately ; it 
was evident she did not know that Gideon had left 
my employment ; “ rest yourself, and take some food. 
Then we will talk.” 

I want no rest,” she cried, nor will I eat in your 
house ! It would choke me. Give me back my son 
— you shall no longer keep him from me ! I have 
walked fifty miles through the snow to see him, hop- 
ing to be here two days ago; but the cruel snow 
kept me back. Oh, my God, what I have suffered ! 
My son — my son — give me my son ! Do you hear 
me ? Give me my son ! Gideon, Gideon !” she 
screamed. “ Your old mother is here ! Come to 
me, for God’s sake come to me !” Her screams 
brought Anna into the room. Ah,” cried Louisa 


SELF-DOOMED. 


131 


Wolf, running to Anna, and putting her hands con- 
vulsively upon her; you are a woman ; you have a 
human heart beating in your breast — not like that 
monster there — ” 

“ Stop !” exclaimed Anna ; you are crazy — you 
don’t know what you are saying. Master Fink is a 
good and just man, and any one who says otherwise 
cannot be in her right senses.” 

Anna,” I said, sadly, “do not waste time in de- 
fending me. We stand in the presence of a sorrow 
so overwhelming that all other considerations are as 
nought in my eyes. I forgive Louisa Wolf for any 
words she may speak against me. The great Lord 
of all, who rules the storm and the tempest without 
— not fiercer is it, Anna, than the storm which racks 
and tears this poor woman’s soul — has seen my ac- 
tions, and will judge me.” Anna came to my side 
and kissed my hand ; it was a simple action, but it 
comforted me. “ Louisa Wolf,” I said, “your son is 
not here.” 

“ Where, then, can he be ?” she moaned, and she 
looked about the room really as though she were be- 
reft of reason. “ Merciful God ! Do not tell me he 
is dead !” 

“ He lives,” I said, “ but I know nothing more of 
him than that. He left my house four months ago, 
and from that day we have spoken no word to each 
other.” 


132 


SELF-DOOMED. 


‘^Four months ago!” she muttered. “That must 
be about the time you came to our old village. Why 
did he not tell me — why did not you ? You are 
speaking the truth, Gustave Fink ? Swear it, by 
your mother’s spirit !” 

“I am speaking the truth, Louisa Wolf,” I said; 
“ I swear to it by the memory of my mother 1” 

“ Then I have no business here,” she said, bewil- 
dered and dazed. “ I came to this house to find him 
— to press him in my arms — to embrace him, and re- 
ceive his kisses ! Oh, my dear one, my baby boy, 
where art thou ? Tell me, you two — my enemies — 
tell me where I shall find my son.” 

“ He lives in the Temple,” 1 said, “ a mile from 
this spot. That is all I know, and all 1 can tell 
you.” 

“ In the Temple,” she murmured, “ a mile from 
this spot. God give me strength to get there ! The 
Temple ! A sacred place. I hear the holy music ! 
My dear one, my dear one !” She raised her hands, 
and there was a look of ecstasy on her face. Sud- 
denly she recovered herself, and shuddering at the 
sight of me, said, “May I never again be afflicted 
with the sight of your face, Gustave Fink 1 The Tem- 
ple — the Temple 1” And she staggered to the door. 

“You will never dream of going there to-night!” 
I cried ; and Anna stood in her way. 

“ No,” she said, “I will not dream of going — I will 


SELF-DOOMED. 


133 


go. No mortal power shall stop me. The Temple ! 
Do you not hear the music? Ah, how sweet — how 
sweet !” 

“Think a moment,” I said, hurriedly ; “listen to 
the storm. It increases in fierceness. There is not 
a soul in the streets.” 

“ God is there,” she answered, “ and all his holy 
angels. You cannot prevent me from going — tliey 
will not permit yon. I am coming, Gideon, I am 
coming, my dear one! Thou and I will spend the 
New Year together. The storm is singing, to guide 
me to thee 1” 

“ Give me my cloak, Anna,” I said ;“ I will go with 
Louisa Wolf ; otherwise she will perish in the snow.” 

“ I will accompany you. Master Fink,” said Anna ; 
“ I will not leave you to-night.” 

In a moment my cloak was on my shoulders, and 
my fur cap on my head. Anna, also, was as quickly 
equipped. She would have wrapped a thick shawl 
round Louisa Wolf, but the kindly service was re- 
jected, and the shawl fell to the ground. I picked it 
up and carried it on my arm. 

We went out into the storm. So thick was the 
falling snow that I could scarcely see a yard before 
me. It swirled into our faces, and the sharp wind 
cut us bitterly. But Louisa Wolf did not feel it. 
A look of rapture was in her eyes, and on her lips 
an ecstatic smile. 


134 


SELF-DOOMED. 


“Dear angels, lead me!” she whispered, as she 
stepped from my house. 

Not a light was to be seen, not a human being 
but ourselves was abroad; our feet sank into the 
snow more than ankle deep, and we heard no sound 
but the raging wind. Moving as we did, noiselessly 
along, the moaning and the sobbing of the storm 
seemed, as it were, to be dissociated from us, and 
even amid these tempestuous evidences we were en- 
gulfed in an awful white silence. We were like 
three spirits moving through dead streets. 

The difficulties in our way were so great that we 
made but slow progress. Louisa Wolf refused all 
offers of assistance ; she would not touch our hands. 
Surely some superhuman power must have sustained 
her through the terrible fatigue she had endured. 
We were more than an hour reaching the Temple, 
and if Anna spoke to me, or I to her, it was in a 
whisper. Only once did we stop — when the distant 
church bells proclaimed tlie birth of a New Tear. 

Sweet and solemn they pealed upon the air, con- 
veying their pregnant message which all do not take 
to heart — the message of the cradle and the grave. 

“ A Happy New Year to you, master,” said Anna. 

“ And to you, Anna,” I replied. 

“The bells of the New Year!” murmured Louisa 
Wolf. “God bless my beloved son, and make his 
life honored and happy !” 


SELF-DOOMED. 


135 


At length we were within a hundred yards of 
Miser Pretzel’s residence, and then a singular im- 
pression stole upon me. There appeared to be an 
unusual movement in the air, a tremulous pulsing, 
as it were. I cannot more clearly define it; the 
impression was more spiritual than real. But it 
was prophetic of what followed. 

We entered the narrow streets of the Temple; 
we traversed the tortuous thoroughfare in which 
Gideon Wolf resided; we stopped before the house, 
immediately opposite the house of Miser Pretzel. 

High up in the air, the beam which kept these 
houses from falling upon each other in deadly em- 
brace was indicated by a thick band of snow, stretch- 
ing from garret window to garret window. 

“Your son lives here,” I said to Louisa Wolf. 

“Here!” she sighed. “Yes, yes, I see the lights, 
I hear the angels’ music. Hush! my dear one’s 
voice is among them. Gideon, Gideon my darling, 
I am waiting for thee !” 

She slid from my supporting arms, which she had 
not now the power to thrust from her — indeed she 
was not conscious that they were around her — and 
sank upon the white steps of the door which, open, 
would have led her to her son’s chamber. Her back 
was towards this door, her face towards the house 
occupied by Pretzel. 

“ Her strength is spent,” I said to Anna. 


136 


SELF-DOOMED. 


As I uttered these words the upper window of 
Pretzel’s house, immediately above the snow -clad 
beam, was thrust violently open, and a man issued 
therefrom, and sliding cautiously upon the wooden 
support, embraced it with his arms and legs. At 
the same moment a glare of light made itself vis- 
ible in the room from which he emerged. I grasped 
Anna’s arm, and her eyes followed the direction of 
mine. Entranced, we watched the man winding his 
way, inch by inch, along the beam, to the opposite 
window, which gave light to the room in which 
Gideon Wolf slept. So perilous was this enterprise 
that we held our breaths in very fear ; we stood like 
stone, transfixed. 

The glare in the room the man had left grew 
stronger and stronger, and like a great dark snake 
the man, whose body was stretched lengthways upon 
the beam, slid slowly onward till lie reached Gid- 
eon Wolf’s window. Then, with one hand cautious- 
ly raised, he strove to open this window ; but he 
strove in vain. The window was fast, and no effort 
of his could move it. He could use but one hand ; 
the beam was slippery with snow and ice-flakes, bits 
of which, dislodged by his movements, fell at our 
feet. His other arm and hand embraced the beam, 
to save himself from falling to certain death. One 
glance did I give at Louisa Wolf. A transport of 
rapture was on her face ; she made a movement as 
though she were pressing a baby to her breast. 


SELF-DOOMED. 


137 


“ See,” whispered Anna, pointing upward, and she 
clung to me, trembling in every limb, “ he is turn- 
ing back.” 

Yes, foiled in his endeavors to open the window, 
the man, by a wonderful exercise of strength, twist- 
ed himself round, and was now sliding towards the 
room he had left. His progress was slower and 
more laborious; his exertions had well-nigh ex- 
hausted him. 

He will be killed — he will be killed !” gasped 
Anna. “ He will fall, and die here at our feet ! Help 
—help !” 

“ Do not cry out,” I said, and with my hand on 
her mouth I prevented her screams from being heard. 
“We cannot help him before he reaches Pretzel’s 
window. If you rouse Louisa Wolf to consciousness 
she will go mad. Do you not see who it is up there ?” 

“ No,” she replied, “ my eyes are too weak.” 

“ Anna, it is Gideon Wolf himself.” 

Yes, it was he and no other, and as I gazed at his 
snake-like figure I marvelled to myself what kind of 
devil’s work he had been engaged in. It was some- 
thing villanous and unholy — of that I was inwardly 
convinced. 

By this time he had reached the open window of 
Miser Pretzel’s house; but as he placed his hand 
upon the sill, and raised his head almost to the level 
of his hand, a tremendous volume of fiame burst upon 


138 


SELF-DOOMED. 


him and compelled him to shrink swiftly down upon 
the snow-clad beam. 

My God !” I cried, “ the man is lost ! The house 
is on fire ! Anna, look after Louisa Wolf. Katrine 
— Katrine ! Pretzel — Pretzel ! Come quickly, or you 
will be burned to death !” 

And I beat with my fists upon Pretzel’s door, and 
kicked at the panels with all my strength. 

In less time than I take to tell it, the entire upper 
portion of Miser Pretzel’s house was one mass of 
fiame; cries and shouts rent the air; doors were filing 
open; half-naked people rushed out of their houses; 
screaming women and children ran this way and that. 
But Miser Pretzel’s house remained fast closed, and 
Louisa Wolf lay motionless in the snow, witli her 
head in old Anna’s lap. Strong men hacked at Pret- 
zel’s door with knives and axes, while Gideon Wolf, 
clinging to the snow-clad beam, cast frantic glances 
around — above, below, on every side— and screamed 
to us to save him. We could not hear his words, the 
uproar was so great, but we saw by his gestures that 
he was making agonized appeals to us. Ah, ah ! They 
had broken in Pretzel’s door, and reckless men rushed 
into the house to save the miser and Katrine Loebeg. 
‘^Keep back. Master Fink,” they cried, ^^we can do 
the w’ork better than you.” It was easy for me to 
obey them, for I was fascinated by Gideon Wolf’s 
deadly peril. His struggles to retain his hold grew 


SELF-DOOMED. 


139 


fainter and fainter. In his agony and terror and 
weakness his body slipped from the beam, and he 
hung in mid-air, sixty feet above us, supported only 
by one arm. In this violent movement his clothes 
became disarranged, and from his loosened pockets 
fell a great number of gold pieces. Yes, into the 
snow, like dead birds overweighted by sin, descended 
the bright golden shower, and the people threw them- 
selves upon the ground, and tore frantically into the 
thick white carpet to gather it. Simultaneously with 
this new feature of the awful scene, men issued from 
Pretzel’s house, bearing two bodies, the miser’s and 
Katrine’s. They brought them close to me, exclaim- 
ing, 

There has been murder done !” 

They pointed to wounds in the breast of Miser Pret- 
zel, from which the blood was still flowing, proving 
that the dark deed had been but recently committed. 
But Katrine was safe in my arms — I felt her warm 
breath upon my face — her bosom heaved — her eyes 
opened. She gave one upward glance, and beheld 
the suspended form of Gideon Wolf gradually but 
surely slipping from life to death. 

Murderer !” she screamed. 

Ah, my God ! Never shall I forget that scream. 
It was the knell of love and hope and faith and hap- 
piness. It rings in my ears now. It reached Gid- 
eon Wolf’s in the last moments of his life, and he 


140 


SELF-DOOMED. 


knew that his crime was .discovered. With a wild 
shi’iek his arm slid from the beam, and he fell through 
the air upon the stones, forcing a shower of blood- 
stained snow into the faces of those who stood near 
his crushed and mangled form. 

“Look, Master Fink, look!” said Anna, pulling at 
my cloak. 

I knelt by the side of my old sweetheart, Louisa 
Wagner. I pillowed her head upon my breast. 

“Listen,” she murmured, “ the angels are still sing- 
ing. How sweet — how beautiful ! The door of the 
Temple is open. The lights are there, and I see my 
boy — my angel baby-boy. Gideon, my dear one, I 
have come to spend the New Year witli thee! Ah, 
he is in mj arms ; I am happy, I am happy ! All my 
pain has gone. How dim the lights are growing in 
the Temple! That is because you are not there, my 
dear one. We will never part again, darling! Closer 
— closer — closer !” 

And with her lips upon my lips she died. 

* * * * * * * 

You guess, do you not, that Katrine Loebeg, the 
young woman with the silver hair, is my house-keeper 
now? 


THE END. 


BEN-HUR . A TALE OF THE CHRIST, 

By Lew. Wallace. New Edition, pp. 552. 16mo, Cloth, 

$1 50. 

Anything so startling, new, and distinctive as the leading feature of this 
romance does not often appear in works of fiction. . . . Some of Mr. Wal- 
lace’s writing is remarkable for its pathetic eloquence. The scenes de- 
scribed in the New Testament are rewritten with the power and skill of 
an accomplished master of style. — iV. V. Times. 

Its real basis is a description of the life of the Jews and Romans at the 
beginning of the Christian era, and this is both forcible and brilliant. . . . 
We are carried through a surprising variety of scenes; we witness a sea- 
fight, a chariot-race, the internal economy of a Roman galley, domestic in- 
teriors at Antioch, at Jerusalem, and among the tribes of the desert; pal- 
aces, prisons, the haunts of dissipated Roman youth, the houses of pious 
families of Israel. There is plenty of exciting incident; everything is 
animated, vivid, and glowing. — N. Y. Trihune. 

From the opening of the volume to the very close the reader’s interest 
will be kept at the highest pitch, and the novel will be pronounced by all 
one of the greatest novels of the day. — Boston Post. 

It is full of poetic beauty, as though born of an Eastern sage, and there 
is sufficient of Oriental customs, geography, nomenclature, etc., to greatly 
strengthen the semblance. — Boston Commonwealth. 

“Ben-Hur” is interesting, and its characterization is fino and strong. 
Meanwhile it evinces careful study of the perfod in which the scene is laid, 
and will help those who read it with reasonable attention to realize the 
nature and conditions of Hebrew life in Jerusalem and Roman life at 
Antioch at the time of our Saviour’s advent. — Examiner^ N. Y. 

It is really Scripture history of Christ’s time clothed gracefully and 
delicately in the flowing and loose drapery of modern fiction. . . . Few late 
works of fiction excel it in genuine ability and interest. — N. Y. Graphic. 

One of the most remarkable and delightful books. It is as real and 
warm as life itself, and as attractive as the grandest and most heroic 
chapters of history. — Bidianapolis Journal. 

The book is one of unquestionable power, and will be read with un- 
wonted interest by many readers who are weary of the conventional novel 
and romance. — Boston Journal. 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New Yoke. 

4 ®* The above loork sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States 
or Canada, on receipt of the price. 


UPON A CAST 


A Novel. By Ohaelotte Dunning, pp. 330. 16mo, 

Cloth, $1 00. V 

It embodies throughout the expressions of genuine American frank- 
ness, is well conceived, well managed, and brought to a delightful 
and captivating close. — Albany Press. 

The author writes this story of American social life in an interest- 
ing manner. . . . The style of the writing is excellent, and the dia- 
logue clever. — N. T. Times. 

This story is strong in plot, and its characters are drawn with a 
firm and skilful hand. They seem like real people, and their acts 
and words, their fortunes and misadventures, are made to engage the 
reader’s interest and sympathy. — Worcester Daily Spy. 

The character painting is very well done. . . . The sourest cynic 
that ever sneered at woman cannot but find the little story vastly 
entertaining. — Commercial Bulletin, Boston. 

The life of a semi-metropolitan village, with its own aristocracy, 
gossips, and various other qualities of people, is admirably por- 
trayed. . . . The book fascinates the reader from the first page to 
the last. — Boston Traveller. 

The plot has been constructed with no little skill, and the charac- 
ters— all of them interesting and worthy of acquaintance— are por- 
trayed with great distinctness. The book is written in an entertain- 
ing and vivacious style, and is destined to provide entertainment for 
a large number of readers. — Christian at Work, N. Y. 

One of the best — if not the very best— of the society novels of the 
season. — Detroit Free Press. 

Of peculiar interest as regards plot, and with much grace and 
freshness of style. — Brooklyn Times. 

The plot has been constructed with no little skill, and the characters 
— all of them interesting and worthy of acquaintance— are portrayed 
with great distinctness. — Episcopal Becorder, Philadelphia. 

A clever and entertaining novel. It is wholly social, and the 
theatre is a small one ; but the characters are varied and are drawn 
with a firm hand ; the play of human passion and longing is well- 
defined and brilliant ; and the movement is effective and satisfac- 
tory. . . . The love story is as good as the social study, making alto- 
gether an uncommonly entertaining book for vacation reading. — 
Wilmington (Del.) Morning News, 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

4®* Harper & Brotuers will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to 
any part 0/ the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price. 


** Unprecedented in the history of the world.'' 

London Times. 

STANLEY’S CONGO, 

And the Founding of its Free State : a Story of Work and 
Exploration. By H. M. Stanley, Author of “ Through 
the Dark Continent,” “ Coomassie and Magdala,” &c. Ded- 
icated by special permission to H. M. the King of the Bel- 
gians. With over One Hundred Illustrations and Maps. 
2*vols., pp. 1130. 8vo, Ornamental Cloth, $10 00. 

A record of extraordinary achievements. . . . The facts speak for them- 
selves ; and that Mr. Stanley should have succeeded in establishing with- 
out bloodshed a series of stations along the Congo, extending to a dis- 
tance of fifteen hundred miles from its mouth, is a feat of courage, 
endurance, and management combined the like of which has rarely beeii 
heard of. — St. James’s Gazette., London. 

The story of the exploration will at once command the attention of 
the civilized world. ... It is written with great spirit and simplicity, 
bringing every scene and circumstance graphically before the reader. — 
N. Y. Herald. 

An important contribution to the world’s history, all the more valu- 
able as being written by the man who has himself made that i)ortion of 
history. — Graphic., London. 

The great book of the season. . . . The story of stories, the romantic 
narrative of the discovei’y and founding of the Congo State. — Joseph 
Hatton, in the Boston Herald. " 

Thoughtful and ably written volumes, which combine with the fas- 
cination of stories of travel among strange people humanitarian lessons 
fraught with good for the scattered tribes of Africa. — London Daily 
Chronicle. 

Mr. Stanley’s work on the Congo may justly be regarded as the book 
of the season. No other volumes which have appeared within the past 
year comprise the history of so many, so important, or such varied 
ac h ie vem en ts . — London Sta7idard. 

Proves to the full as vivid, as graphic, as interesting as anything we 
have had from the pen of the most daring and intrepid explorer. The 
reader will turn over its pages with delight.— ihZZ Mall Gazette, London. 

The book is at once a romance and a masterly history of the most 
romantic undertaking our generation has known. — London Daily Tele-^ 
graph. 

Sufficient in itself to have founded a great reputation.— Daily 
News. 

Mr. Stanley may fairly boast of having given to the world two of tho 
most remarkable books of travel and adventure. — Athenceum, London. 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

Harper & Brothers will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to 
any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price. 


BOOTS AND SADDLES; 

Or, Life in Dakota with General Custer. By Mrs. Eliz- 
abeth B. Custer. With Portrait of General Custer, 
pp. 312. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50. 

A book of adventure is interesting reading, especially when it is all true, 
as is the case with “ Boots and Saddles.” * * * She does not obtrude the 
fact that sunshine and solace went with her to tent and fort, but it in- 
heres in her narrative none the less, and as a consequence “ these simple 
annals of our daily life,” as she calls them, are never dull nor uninterest- 
ing. — Evangelist^ N. Y. 

Mrs. Custer’s book is in reality a bright and sunny sketch of the life 
of her late husband, who fell at the battle of “ Little Big Horn.” ^ ^ 

After the war, when General Custer was sent to the Indian frontier, his 
wife was of the party, and she is able to give the minute story of her 
husband’s varied career, since she was almost always near the scene of 
his adventures. — Brooklyn Union, 

We have no hesitation in saying that no better or more satisfactory life 
of General Custer could have been written. Indeed, we may as well 
speak the thought that is in us, and say plainly that we know of no bio- 
graphical work anywhere which we count better than this. * * * Surely the 
record of such experiences as these will be read with that keen interest 
which attaches only to strenuous human doings ; as surely we are right 
in saying that such a story of truth and heroism as that here told will 
take a deeper hold upon the popular mind and heart than any work of 
fiction can. For the rest, the narrative is as vivacious and as lightly and 
trippingly given as that of any novel. It is enriched in every chapter with 
illustrative anecdotes and incidents, and here and there a little life story 
of pathetic interest is told as an episode. — N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 

It is a plain, straightforward story of the author’s life on the plains of 
Dakota. Every member of a Western garrison will want to read this 
book ; every person in the East who is interested in Western life will 
want to read it, too; and every girl or boy who has a healthy appetite 
for adventure will be sure to get it. It is bound to have an army of read- 
ers that few authors can expect. — Philadelphia Press. 

These annals of daily life in the army are simple, yet interesting, and 
underneath all is discerned the love of a true woman ready for any sacri- 
fice. She touches on themes little canvassed by the civilian, and makes a 
volume equally redolent of a loving devotion to an honored husband, and 
attractive as a picture of necessary duty by the soldier. — Commonwealth^ 
Boston. 


Published by HARPER k BROTHERS, N. Y. 

Habpkb & Broth KBS will send the above work by mail,, postage prepaid^ to any 
part qf the United States or Canada^ -on receipt of the price. 


It surpasses all its predecessors. — N. Y. Tribune. 



A Dictionary of the English Language, Pronouncing, Etymological, 
and Explanatory, Embracing Scientific and Other Terms, Numer- 
ous Familiar Terms, and a Copious Selection of Old English 
AYords. By the Rev. James Stormontii. The Pronunciation 
Carefully Revised by the Rev. P. H. Phelp, M.A. pp. 1248. 
4to, Cloth, $6 00; Half Roan, $7 00; Sheep, $7 50. 

Also in Harper’s Franklin Square Library, in Twenty- 
three Parts. 4to, Paper, 25 cents each Part. Muslin covers for 
binding supplied by the publishers on receipt of 50 cents. 

As regards thoroughness of etymological research and breadth of modern inclusion, 
Stormonth’s new dictionary surpasses all its predecessors, * * ju fact, Stormonth’s 
Dictionary possesses merits so many and conspicuous that it can hardly fail to estab- 
lish itself as a standard and a favorite. — N. Y. Tribune. 

This may serve in great measure the purposes of an English cyclopaedia. It gives 
lucid and succinct definitions of the technical terms in science and art, in law and 
medicine. We have the explanation of words and phrases that puzzle most people, 
showing wonderfully comprehensive and out-of-the-way research. We need only add 
that the Dictionary appears in all its departments to have been brought down to meet 
the latest demands of the day, and that it is admirably printed. — Thnes, London. 

A most valuable addition to the library of the scholar and of the general reader. 
It can have for the present no possible rival. — Boston Post. 

It has the bones and sinews of the grand dictionary of the future. * * * An invalu- 
able library book. — Ecclesiastical Gazette., London. 

A work which is certainly without a rival, all things considered, among the dic- 
tionaries of our language. The peculiarity of the work is that it is equally well adapt- 
ed to the uses of the man of business, who demands compactness and ease of reference, 
and to those of the most exigent scholar. — N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 

As compared with our standard dictionaries, it is better in type, richer in its vocab- 
ulary, and happier in arrangement. Its system of grouping is admirable. * * He 

who possesses this dictionary will enjoy and use it, and its bulk is not so great as to 
make use of it a terror. — Christian Advocate, N. Y. 

A well-planned and carefully executed work, which has decided merits of its own, 
and for which there is a place not filled by any of its rivals. — W. Y. Sun. 

A work of sterling value. It has received from all quarters the highest commenda- 
tion. — Lutheran Observer, Philadelphia. 

A trustworthy, truly scholarly dictionary of our English language. — Christian InteJr 
ligencer, N. Y. 

The issue of Stormonth’s great English dictionary is meeting with a hearty wel- 
come everywhere.— Boston Transcript. 

A critical and accurate dictionary, the embodiment of good seholarship and the 
result of modern researches. Compression and clearness are its external evidences, 
and it offers a favorable comparison with the best dictionaries in use, while it holds an 
unrivalled place in bringing forth the result of modern philological criticism. — Boston 
Journal. 

Full, complete, and accurate, including all the latest words, and giving all their 
derivatives and correlatives. The definitions are short, but plain, the method of mak- 
ing pronunciation very simple, and the arrangement such as to give the best results 
in the smallest space. — Philadelphia Inquirer. 


Published by HARPER <fe BROTHERS, New York. 

Hakper & Brothers will send the above work by mail., postage prepaid^ to any 
part of the United States or Canada^ on receipt of the price. 


HARPER’S PERIODICALS. 


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One Year, 52 Numbers 10 00 

HARPER’S HANDY SERIES, One Year, 52 Nos. . 15 00 


The Volumes of the Weekly and Bazar begin with the first Numbers 
for January, the Volumes of the Young People with the first Number for 
November, and the Volumes of the Magazine with the Numbers for June 
and December of each year. 

Subscriptions will be commenced with the Number of each Periodical 
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scriber otherwise directs. 


BOUND VOLUMES. 

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bound in Illuminated Cloth, will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on 
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space occupied as solid matter. Remittances should be made by Post- 
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Address: HARPER & BROTHERS, 

Franklin Square, New York. 











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